All or Nothing
by At Leisure
Summary: When Bingley brings Darcy's amiable younger brother George to Netherfield, Elizabeth soon finds herself at first compromised into getting engaged to George Darcy and then tricked into marrying Fitzwilliam Darcy. Will she submit to the demands of a prejudiced husband or will her pride take her on a journey away from everyone she holds dear?
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: **I do not own most of the characters and some of the plot lines, used in this story. The basic idea and character sketches of the leads are from **Pride and Prejudice** by **Jane Austen.**

**PART I – FROM LONGBOURN TO LONDON**

**Chapter 1: George Darcy meets Elizabeth Bennet**

Elizabeth Bennet roamed the walks near her house, Longbourn, on that pleasant morning in early March of 1811 with no serious thought, other than what she would wear on the upcoming ball, on her mind. She beat around at the tall grass on both sides of the path with the stick she had picked up a while earlier as her mind drifted off to the discussion her parents had had a few days ago. Mama had pestered Papa about paying a visit to their new neighbours at Netherfield Park, and he had skillfully but unsuccessfully tried to dissuade her. The argument only ended with Mrs. Bennet having a fit of nerves and Mr. Bennet getting the solace of his library at last. _'To each man, his own,' _she thought.

Elizabeth frowned under the sun that now shone directly above her head, her bonnet, a gift from her Aunt Gardiner, was more fashionable and less useful. She struck the grass more forcibly suddenly feeling incensed at Mama's constant harping on the subject of the importance of catching an eligible husband at a young age. She sighed, this was usually succeeded by the eternal dread of having to live in the hedgerows after Mr. Bennet was dead as the estate was entailed away from the female line, and the Bennets had no son. But Poor Mama could hardly be blamed for wanting her daughters to marry well, it was the methods she usually adopted that gave cause for extreme embarrassment, to at least her two elder daughters.

Elizabeth threw away the stick and turned around to go back as the hour was getting late. She had no hopes of making a match anytime soon, she was nineteen years old and had been out for more than two years now, but was yet to come across any gentleman who could catch her fancy. She was aware that her mother pinned great hopes to the newcomers and the large circle of friends they had supposedly brought along, but she also knew that nothing would come out of it. But **thinking** you know what lay ahead in your future is one thing, and a rather foolish one at that, and actually **knowing **it is another and well-read for a woman of her time, as she was, Elizabeth distinctly lacked the power to peek through the glass of time and ascertain what lay ahead, for the time to come was distinctly different from what she had thought and hoped it to be.

* * *

Elizabeth woke up the day of the Meryton Assembly excited and rejuvenated. She got off the bed and walked towards the mirror to rid herself of the wet rags that she had tied to her soft wavy hair in order to make them curl in the front, since those coveted tiny ringlets were all the rage. As she untied the small pieces of cloth she tried not to make too much noise for Jane was still asleep. But as the result of the previous night's maneuvers was exactly as she desired, she could not help but shriek a little with enthusiasm and that did wake her sleeping sister up.

"What is it Lizzy?" Jane opened her cornflower blue eyes and asked a little groggily, "has your hair curled properly?"

"Indeed it has dear Jane," she dimpled and walked towards the windows, "and I dare say that my hair would be the envy of every girl present at the assembly tonight," Elizabeth said playfully and pulled the curtains back letting the beautiful morning sun in through the windows of their rooms.

"Is that what pleases you so?" Jane said getting up and rubbing her eyes, "and here I was thinking that you are probably so enthused because you believe Aunt Phillips's rumors about handsome young men of large consequence attending the ball tonight."

"I hardly ever pay attention to what Aunt Phillips says," Elizabeth wrinkled her nose and walked back to the vanity to take a look at her newly acquired curls once again, "and those are not rumors. Charlotte told me that the said young men do exist after all and Sir William has already paid them a visit. Mama would be vastly displeased at Papa when she hears that our neighbours have beaten us at paying the all important visit to the newest addition to Meryton's society," she said cheekily and then smiled as she pictured Mama's chagrin and Papa's indifference to it.

"Do you think I should wear my lilac gown or the blue one?" Jane asked Elizabeth as she got off the bed and proceeded to untie the rags in her hair, not that she required them, her hair curled beautifully on their own.

"Oh the lilac one, to be sure," Elizabeth looked mischievously at her, "for it makes you look not half as well as the blue one does and so I might just end up getting some attention at last."

"Do not be ridiculous Lizzy," Jane smiled fondly at her, "you know well that you get enough attention at the balls, for everyone hereabouts knows what a good dancer you are." Jane peered critically at her reflection in the mirror.

"Alas," Elizabeth said in mock dismay donning her dressing gown and moving towards the door, "to be liked for your skill and not for your beauty is not that much of a consolation."

Jane turned around laughingly to reply but Elizabeth had already exited the room. She smiled and walked towards the bed to get her own dressing gown and follow her sister to the privy.

* * *

A noisy day turned into an even noisier evening as the household, consisting of six women, got ready for an evening that promised much in the name of entertainment as well as suitors.

"Oh Mr. Bennet, I cannot believe that you have agreed to come with us," Mrs. Bennet forgot her earlier annoyance at her husband for not having visited the newly arrived gentleman who had leased the neighbouring estate, Netherfield Park, as she saw him come out with them and move towards the carriage.

"Indeed," he drawled, "I had to, for who else would introduce you to our new neighbours, should I refuse to come?"

Mrs. Bennet stopped in mid-step and turned towards her husband with her bosom heaving quite unnaturally.

"Do not trifle with my poor nerves Mr. Bennet," she wailed on the brink of passing out when Mr. Bennet quickly took her arm and steered her towards the carriage, all five of their daughters following in suspense.

"Rest assured my dear," he smiled enigmatically at her, "your nerves are safe from me."

"Oh Papa," Elizabeth interrupted, "could you not expose Mama to the sharp end of your wit for once, tell us what you mean by introducing us to the new comers when you have not met them yourself?"

"But I have," he looked back briefly as they stopped by their carriage, "and I therefore am perfectly able and ready to unleash all of you on those unsuspecting gentlemen as no matter how sympathetic my feelings for them, my love for all of you wins utterly."

Various shrieks of 'Papa' and 'Mr. Bennet' echoed in the front lawn of Longbourn, the Bennet estate, before everyone climbed up the carriage that accommodated six people, but when the occasion demanded, also rose up to the challenge of cramming in seven. The women spent the short ride to the Meryton Assembly Hall in quizzing their father about the gentleman and were hugely successful but not at all miffed, for in a very short while they would be able to see and assess him themselves.

The Bennets entrance on any event in the neighbourhood was always sure to cast a hubbub among the people already assembled. The ladies took notice because the Bennets, despite being not at all rich, always wore the best clothes and the gentlemen because well wherever there would be ladies of some beauty, the eyes of the men were sure to rove in their direction.

They were a handsome family no doubt and several eyes followed as everyone made their way through the throng of people. Soon the dances began and the youngest Miss Catherine better known as Miss Kitty was seen dancing and her eternal partner Miss Lydia, sulking, for though they did everything together and at the same time, Lydia still had a month to go before she could be called **'out'** and therefore was unable to dance at all. The eldest daughters took hold of their particular friend Miss Charlotte Lucas and began chatting where as the middle daughter Mary sat in a corner and scowled at most people.

"I see Lizzy that you have not been successful in convincing Jane to wear her lilac gown," Charlotte teased her friend.

"I told you that she is not half as easily persuadable as everyone seems to think," Elizabeth turned towards Jane and smiled mischievously at her. Jane shrugged and turned towards the door as a sudden hush fell on the hall.

"These are the people everybody has been waiting for," Charlotte whispered in Elizabeth's ears as they stood surveying the newcomers. "The couple in the front is a Mr. and Mrs. Hurst, sister and brother-in-law to the gentleman with the light brown hair."

"What is his name?" Jane asked quickly and Elizabeth turned towards her. It was not like Jane to take interest in a gentleman so soon after seeing him.

"Mr. Bingley," Charlotte replied and said after a pause, "and the woman on his arm with the rather large feather in her hair is Miss Bingley."

"And the man who can barely stop the said feather from entering his mouth?" Asked Elizabeth as the last of their party stepped in.

"He is a Mr. Darcy," Charlotte smiled, "he is rumored to be quite rich."

"And eccentric as well, I suppose," Elizabeth joked, "for why else would he try to feast on the feather in a lady's hair."

"Maybe that feather belonged to his favourite chicken," Charlotte returned in the same vein as her soft brown eyes twinkled.

"Or maybe some of the chicken is still attached to that feather," Elizabeth supplied as Jane burst into giggles.

"Stop it, I beg you," Jane said after she managed to stop laughing, "they are coming towards us."

Elizabeth observed them as they passed by. Mr. Hurst was a portly gentleman and his wife a plump woman, of high fashion no doubt but apparently little taste. Mr. Bingley was a pleasant looking young man with a smile for everyone, but his sister, though his equal in looks seemed a little behind him in manner, as indicated by the frown she carried since she entered the hall. But it was Mr. Darcy who caught the attention of almost everyone in the room and Elizabeth was no different, but before she could contemplate further on the colour of his eyes or the breadth of his shoulders, the party from Netherfield Park stopped right in front of them.

Elizabeth's parents approached with Sir William, introductions were made, and the ladies found out the first names of the gentlemen. Before long she observed the eyes of both the gentlemen fixed on Jane, but Mr. Charles Bingley proved to be quicker than Mr. George Darcy and hence when the next dance began, it was Mr. Bingley who had the most beautiful girl in the room on his arm and despite being the handsomest man there, Mr. George Darcy had to make do with one of the many women who were contenders for the second handsomest woman at the Meryton Assembly, Elizabeth Bennet.

Elizabeth felt flattered, as she took her place in the set opposite her partner, that he had asked her, but was not unaware that it was only as a next resort. Such scruples would have weighed on a weaker constitution, but she was made of a stronger mettle. Besides, she knew that it was only a dance and meant to enjoy it fully.

She looked up at Mr. George Darcy as the dance began and was struck once again with how handsome he was. She had never seen hair so fair on a man, with eyes that were the deepest shade of blue, and he was tall, so very tall. _'Why, he is almost beautiful,' _she almost laughed at her silly thoughts.

"Do you live nearby?" He asked and Elizabeth found his voice to be very melodious, his accent well bred.

"Very near," she replied as they turned around and faced each other again, "Longbourn, my father's estate, is not three miles from Netherfield."

"I have only just arrived and am still acquainting myself with the area," he told her, "are there any good riding paths hereabouts?"

"Plenty I am sure," she said indifferently and turned away, her newly acquired curls bobbing near her neck, "but not being a rider myself, I can hardly be the judge of which are the best."

"What means of exercise do you follow then?" He looked at her with a twinkle in his beautiful blue eyes, "for though you do excel so much at dance, it cannot be everyday that a ball is to be had." Elizabeth smiled as she tried to figure him out. He seemed perfectly amiable and unassuming, and even though his attire alone was the evidence of him belonging to the first circles of the ton he still did not display any sign of pride or arrogance. She turned her eyes towards where Mr. Bingley and Jane were dancing together and then back to her partner. Amiable though he was, he did not seem as easy going as Mr. Bingley.

"I walk," she told him as they joined hands, covered with gloves of course, and then changed the subject, "is this your first time here at Hertfordshire?"

"I have passed it as many times as I have traveled from my home in Derbyshire to London, as it lies en route," he said pleasantly, "but this is surely my first **stay **here."

"And how do you like it?" She looked calculatingly at him, "you must be used to the ton parties and balls, this country gathering must seem awfully unsophisticated to you?" She thought she observed a slight discomfort on his face for a moment, but then he quickly rearranged his features.

"So far I have found it charming," he looked meaningfully at her and Elizabeth blushed slightly. _'So he is a flatterer,' _she thought and was amused.

"The charm must be that of novelty then," she returned pointedly, wanting him to know that empty compliments were not going to have any effect on her, "as a London season is infinitely preferable, for most people, to the monotonous routine of a country life."

"Even you?" He looked at her with interest.

"Even me," she agreed as they parted and then came together again, "for I have never had the privilege of one, as yet, and would dearly love to have a chance at it. But I doubt if I would like to prolong that kind of pleasure, for the ton soirees and balls are vastly different from anything I am used to."

"Not even if there is the inducement of becoming an instant hit?" He teased.

"Oh the ton is safe from me," Elizabeth smiled impishly at him, "I do not possess the qualities of a winning debutante."

"Oh trust me Miss Elizabeth," he smiled indulgently at her as the dance ended and they bowed and curtseyed to each other, "you would not be a debutante, you would be **the debutante," **he emphasized the last two words as he led her away from the dancers and towards her mother, "I am considered to be somewhat of a connoisseur, when it comes to the ton's fresh entrants into society."

Elizabeth's laughter spilled forth then, making her companion look at her in alarm. _'A flirt of the first order, no less,' _she thought with amusement.

"Believe me, sir," she looked archly at him as soon as she could stop laughing, "you would find me anything but **typical."**

Mr. George Darcy stared at her in something akin to wonder as Jane and Mr. Bingley joined them before they could approach her mother who was pointing at Elizabeth and her sister in utter triumph while Lady Lucas listened to her schemes of a bright future for them both, with a smile bordering on a yawn.

* * *

"I will not have a scandal sully the family name when only a year is left till Georgiana comes out," the cold voice of one Fitzwilliam Marcus Darcy rang out in the study of Darcy House situated in the most expensive and fashionable area of London. His younger brother cringed at the finality in his tone, "you have to leave, **immediately."**

"But…," he opened his mouth to argue but one look from the older, taller man standing stoically near the fire chilled and silenced him.

"You compromised an Earl's daughter, George," he said, his tone softening a little, "there will be consequences unless you are removed from town and stay away as long as this thing blows over."

"But old Margaret had it going with a dozen greenhorns at least," he managed to get a full sentence in at last.

"Precisely," the steel in Darcy's voice and his eyes returned, "they were all new to the fashionable society whereas you are a bloody expert of the female mind and **body," **he spat and George winced at the truth of his words. "How could you be so careless as to be **seen **coming out of a lady's room whom you have no intention of marrying?" He asked in exasperation now.

"Marrying," George jumped, "William how could you even talk about my marriage to that cow?"

"If she is such a **cow," **Darcy minced his words, "then what the deuce were you doing in her room?"

"I…I…," George hesitated but then decided that his formidable brother would get to the bottom of this thing anyways so he shrugged and blurted the truth out, "I needed money."

Darcy's eyes widened for a brief moment before they narrowed. George felt remorse at his actions for the first time. Darcy was right of course, with Georgiana's coming out so near, the family could not afford any scandal. _'Damn Farnsworth,' _he thought in irritation. Baron Farnsworth was not only his particular friend but also the worst of influences on George Darcy, even though George would never admit it to himself. His older brother, his Uncle and even his cousins had tried numerous times to make him distance himself from the young Baron, but they had been inseparable since Cambridge. Farnsworth not only placed him into many a dangerous situations but got him out of many a holes as well, therefore his friendship meant a lot to George, but his family could never understand that.

"So you decided to **sell **yourself?" Darcy's voice was incredulous.

"I did not sell myself, as you so delicately put it," George bristled at the implication of Darcy's words, no matter how true.

Darcy's grey eyes lost some of their steel as disappointment took over his features. His shoulders dropped and he slowly made his way to the small table sitting in the corner, picked up the decanter and poured himself a drink. George's eyes followed his every movement and in that moment he both envied and pitied his older brother.

"If you needed money so desperately," he said after taking his place on the couch in the corner, "why did you not ask me?"

"I did the last time I was in a hole," George defended himself, "but you refused."

"Only for **a day**," Darcy emphasized the last two words, "and that too, to teach you a lesson."

"Well obviously you failed," he bit back. Blue eyes glared at steely grey ones for several moments until George averted his, _'damn Farnsworth,' _he thought again.

"Obviously," Darcy said in an expressionless tone, "but what you do not understand is that at this rate you would soon run out of your inheritance, and gambling and sleeping around can only take you so far."

George seethed, why did William had to always have the upper hand in everything. From being a first son to being the first choice of all the ladies and their mamas, from being a paragon of virtue to being the favourite brother of Georgiana, he had it all and George had only the crumbs that were left in the plate after Darcy had finished his meal. He kept his cool however, his time would come, and then he'll see who wins.

"Why do you not marry the lady," Darcy suggested mildly, "it would solve your monetary problems as well and being a married man would give you the freedom of becoming invincible in the compromising situations that you so often are found in?"

"No," he replied sullenly, "if and when I ever marry, it would be to the woman I love."

"Since when does love has to do anything with marriage?" Darcy looked uncomprehendingly at him.

"Easy for you to say when you are all but engaged to the perfect Lady Felicity Barrington," George mocked from his place by the huge writing table. Darcy's colour rose.

"I do not want the name of a **lady **dragged into a conversation such as this," Darcy looked sternly at him and got up from his perch, walked up to him and took a post near the other corner of the table, "you do know that I want you to change your ways for yourself as much as for the family?" He asked in a softer tone. George nodded reluctantly, anybody who knew Darcy knew that to him family meant the most and the only family he had was his brother and sister.

"Go to Hertfordshire with my friend Bingley in my place," Darcy stepped closer to him and said in a gentle yet firm tone, "stay there for a few weeks or until there is a new scandal that makes this one look insignificant by comparison, and then we shall all go to Pemberley." George looked at his two years older brother rather forlornly.

"Will you come to Bingley's estate?" He asked, knowing how lonely it would be in the dull country.

"Not immediately," Darcy said, "but perhaps after things have settled down a bit here. The immediate evacuation of the whole family might confirm the rumors going around."

"Fine," George said dully, "I shall leave with Bingley then." He started walking towards the door, but Darcy's voice stopped him.

"And George," he said as his eyes twinkled at the corners, "do try not to be found coming out of Miss Caroline Bingley's room." It was the first time in two days that both the brothers really laughed.

So it was that George Wickham Darcy, the second son of Mr. James Edward Darcy of Pemberley, Derbyshire, found himself outside the Meryton Assembly Hall, prepared to spend an evening in the dull and maybe a little wild company of the country gentry.

As George mingled with the locals in the company of Mr. Bingley and his sisters and brother, his eyes roamed the hall and stopped at one of the most beautiful faces he had ever beheld. The flaxen haired beauty was standing next to one very tall brunette and another brown haired girl. Suddenly the tall girl turned towards the other two and said something and they burst out laughing. His eyes went a little higher and landed on a pair of stunningly bright eyes, but returned quickly to the beautiful blue eyes of the girl with fair hair.

Soon they approached the three girls, the fair haired and the dark haired girls turned out to be Miss Jane Bennet and Miss Elizabeth Bennet and the brown haired girl was the genial Sir William's daughter. George was relieved to find at least some beauty at this supposedly dull country gathering and had every intention of asking Miss Bennet for a dance but Bingley beat him to it and he had to make do with Miss Elizabeth Bennet.

As their dance progressed, so did his interest in her. Her beautiful amber eyes glowed and flashed at him all the while and her conversation came as a pleasant surprise as well. What really intrigued him was that she did not seem even half as taken with him as the ton heiresses usually became after he bestowed upon them his famous smile. And when she laughed at him at the end of the dance, his attention was definitely engaged.

"…only three years previous," Miss Elizabeth's chirpy voice brought him back from his reverie to find that Miss Bingley and Miss Lucas had also joined them, "they have now moved to Torquay, but we still write to each other."

"I am glad to hear it," Bingley said good-naturedly, "good friends are hard to come by."

"Indeed," said his sister, "and are we not glad to have found the Darcys," George rolled his eyes, Caroline Bingley let no chance of buttering the Darcys up go by, even when Darcy himself was not present, for really, all this praise was intended for him. "But we are not just good friends, we are the closest," she finished with what she thought was a winning smile.

George looked around to find Bingley looking somewhat sheepish, Miss Elizabeth and Miss Lucas trying to hide their smiles at the unnecessary and unexpected declaration of eternal friendship and Miss Bennet the only one who was smiling genuinely at the gloating woman adorned in more feathers than a peacock.

"Your families must have known each other for a long time then," Miss Bennet commented softly and this time George cut in before Miss Bingley could launch into another one of her flattering speeches.

"No," he said firmly and had the pleasure to behold Miss Bingley's expression becoming sour, "Bingley went to Cambridge with my brother where they became friends but it is only a few years ago that their friendship has deepened. And it has only been a little over a year that we have made the acquaintance of his sisters." He finished turning towards Miss Bingley and asked with mock sweetness, "I hope my estimate of our association is correct, my dear Miss Bingley?"

"Of course," she smiled albeit with a little difficulty. George turned back to observe Miss Lucas's elbow dangerously close to Miss Elizabeth's side and Bingley dangerously close to losing all sense and proposing holy matrimony to the beautiful Miss Bennet. He needed to say something that could bring Bingley back from the trance that he was in.

"In fact," he said quickly and was greatly amused to find Miss Lucas quickly retrieve her elbow, "my brother, who is a very reserved person, considers Bingley one of his closest friends." _'What a silly thing to say,' _he thought about what he had just said.

"Indeed," said Miss Elizabeth, her eyes alive with amusement, George blinked, "and yet you are the one accompanying Mr. Bingley instead of him."

A shadow passed over his face then. He could obviously not reveal the reason why he was banished from London, to these ladies. Confident and apparently worldly that they were, George had no doubt that their experience in a country society had not prepared them to take a scandal, such as his behaviour had created, in stride. He sighed and looked towards Bingley, who also looked slightly nonplussed. Thankfully the situation was saved by Miss Bingley.

"Mr. Darcy is a very busy man, Miss Eliza," she said condescendingly, "and though he would have loved to be here with us, I am sure, he had to refrain on account of some business and his beloved sister."

"We are certainly not blaming him," Miss Lucas returned evenly, "for he cannot be held to be at fault when there are so many inducements to stay in town."

"You might be surprised to hear this Miss Lucas," Bingley turned his eyes away from Miss Bennet long enough to say something to the other ladies, "but Darcy is one of the few people who do not care one jot about the ton life."

"Yes," George agreed, "but the word inducement does remind me that he might have been able to make his journey hither sooner if he were not courting a delightful young lady." His eyes twinkled at the sudden green hue on Miss Bingley's face.

The other three ladies laughed heartily at this and, barring Miss Bennet, plagued him with questions about 'Lady Felicity' until it was time for the second dance of the night. Bingley quickly secured Miss Lucas's hand, and as the Bennet sisters were both previously engaged for this one, he had no choice but to ask Miss Bingley for it. But that dance and all the others that followed went remarkably well and the gentlemen of the Netherfield party, if not the ladies, returned from the gathering quite satisfied with Hertfordshire in general and the ladies in particular.

**A/N: **Hello Everyone. This is my second fic and I hope that all of you are going to like it (a little, if not a lot). Everyone who has read my previous story Memories Lost and Found, must know that I tend to drag my stories out a bit, so this is not going to be short.

It'll be divided into three parts, each named in accordance to Elizabeth's journey from one place to another. And each part is going to have 12-14 chapters, so in total it'll probably have 35-40 chapters, give or take a few. This story starts in the March of 1811 as opposed to September 1811 in the original.

I'll try to update as quickly as possible, but it will not be more than twice a week. Pointing out of any spelling and grammatical mistakes is **mandatory.**

Some characters are bound to be OOC, namely Georgiana and perhaps Mr. Bennet as well.

The character of George Darcy in this story is inspired from George Wickham in the original, in some respects better than him, but in some…even worse.

Oh, and Darcy is coming to Hertfordshire in the third chapter.

I'd love to receive your reviews. Happy reading.

**Next Chapter: In Pursuit of Elizabeth**


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2: In Pursuit of Elizabeth**

The day after the Meryton assembly ball opened a whole vista of thoughts and discussions for the Bennet as well as the Lucas family. The ladies of both Longbourn and Lucas Lodge spent the best part of the night thinking of one gentleman or another, dwelling on every instant of interaction so that when the two families got together at Longbourn, every one was brimming with opinions and therefore quickly divided into small groups in order to have more intimate and open discussions with the friends they were the closest to.

"Who do you think would fall in love sooner?" Charlotte asked the two elder Bennet daughters teasingly, as they took the path along the woods to walk as they conversed, "Mr. George Darcy with Lizzy or Mr. Bingley with Jane?" Jane blushed immediately and was quick to deny the likely occurrence of any such event as far as she and Mr. Bingley were concerned.

"Mr. Bingley might soon find himself quite deeply attached to Jane," Elizabeth ignored Jane's protestations and said somewhat thoughtfully as she stepped ahead of the other two since the path was narrower at that point, "but despite all his amiability, I do not think that Mr. George Darcy's heart can be so easily attached."

"He did pay just as much attention to you as Mr. Bingley did Jane," argued Charlotte and then smiled playfully, "though not quite with as much fervour." Jane blushed again and Elizabeth smiled.

"Indeed he was rather too attentive for my peace of mind," Elizabeth sighed in exasperation as she turned her head slightly to look at her companions, "Mama has hardly talked of anything other than those two gentlemen and their **deep **interest in her daughters."

"Do not tell me Lizzy that you are not at least a little flattered by his asking you to dance for a second time," Jane smiled becomingly, "I know I was when Mr. Bingley asked me again."

"Of course I am," Elizabeth admitted turning back around and increasing her speed, "but I am **just that,** flattered. I have not taken his interest towards me as anything other than a compliment, for I am sure that is all it was."

"You do not think him modest enough to attach himself to a country damsel?" Charlotte mocked as she and Jane walked faster to keep up with Elizabeth's sprightly step.

"I do not think him foolish enough to attach himself to a country nobody when he can just as easily marry an heiress or the daughter of some Lord or another," Elizabeth returned evenly, "he is after all a second son (besides being a practiced flirt) he must have a lot to consider before stepping into matrimony."

"Lizzy slow down," Jane complained as the path became wider and a bench came into view, "I think I shall rest for a bit before going on ahead," she said as she walked off towards the bench with Charlotte, leaving a bewildered Elizabeth to follow them.

"But we have not even been walking for half an hour," Elizabeth argued when she saw them seating themselves.

"Really?" Jane was surprised, "it felt like two hours to me."

"Lizzy you must keep in mind that not only are you a practiced walker, you are much taller than us as well and therefore have a longer step," Charlotte smiled at her pouting friend and soon they were again deep in discussion of the ball.

* * *

Though Elizabeth had denied feeling anything but flattered by Mr. George Darcy's attentions on the eve of the ball, to her friend and sister, and not even that to her mother, there was something else that she had felt which she had not shared with anyone, a strange sense of discomfort.

Mr. George Darcy was perfectly amiable and gentlemanlike, but there was a certain confidence about him that somehow disturbed her. It was as though he was certain to be accepted and appreciated wherever he went, too certain. He did not seem proud of his person, though he certainly was one of the handsomest men she had ever laid eyes upon, not that she had laid them on many, but his easy assurance of the response of others in general and females in particular to him, did not exactly attract Elizabeth, not to mention that he did not let any chance, no matter how slight, of flirtation pass him, unused.

This was also one of the reasons that Elizabeth did not want to dwell too much on the amount of attention he had paid her. His behaviour and words had made it clear to her that while still young he was neither new nor inept at the game of wooing a female if and when it pleased him. And though friendly in general, Elizabeth was cautious about who she gave her heart to. So it was that she entered the Lucas Lodge with full command of her heart and no intention of losing it to any smooth talker from the ton, no matter how handsome or rich he might be.

As soon as they entered the Lucas's drawing room, Mr. Bingley and Mr. George Darcy quickly approached their party and bowed with flourish to them all, but raised their eyes to rest on the faces of only Jane and Elizabeth, respectively. The ladies all curtseyed whereas Mr. Bennet bowed briefly, mumbled something and then beat a hasty retreat towards the corner where Mr. Goulding was seated.

"How are you spending your time here Mr. Darcy?" Charlotte asked Mr. George Darcy after standing with him and Elizabeth for a while. Bingley and Jane had stepped off a little and were now engaged in a conversation of their own.

"Oh in pursuit of game mostly," he eyed Elizabeth meaningfully and the feeling of discomfort returned to her.

"And have you been successful?" Charlotte asked again.

"Quite," he replied confidently, "I am generally known to be a good shot."

"I can never understand gentlemen's obsession with hunting and shooting," Elizabeth shrugged her shoulders with indifference, her eyes on Lydia and Kitty who were displaying quite a bawdy behaviour along with some of the young Lucas sisters, "it seems quite a waste of time and animals to me."

"Miss Elizabeth," Mr. George Darcy cried in indignation, "I did not expect such a reply from you."

"And why ever not?" She arched an eyebrow at him while Charlotte looked on in interest.

"Women in general due to their gentle hearts, I am told, tend to look down upon men's indulgence in shooting and hunting," he explained with a sudden gleam in his blue eyes, "but I have it on authority that you are anything but **typical."**

"And whose authority would that be?" Charlotte asked curiously as Elizabeth's face was lit with a beautiful smile.

"Her own, of course," Mr. George Darcy also thought it a right time to put his teeth on display as Elizabeth's soft laugh rang out.

"You caught me Mr. Darcy," she smiled becomingly at him and her friend, "but in my defense I was referring to debutante behaviour and not the views and opinions that I hold dear. In that, you might just find me the rule rather than the exception."

"I think not madam," he looked deeply into her eyes, "for I find you quite unique."

"And I find you quite an expert at flattery, Sir," she returned archly but could not stop a soft blush from spreading her cheeks. It was not everyday that such an amiable and good-looking man paid her compliments.

"Alas," he heaved an exaggerated sigh and adopted a martyred expression, "you do not know what it feels like to always be misunderstood when in earnest and taken seriously when in jest."

"I would have offered my sympathies if I had not believed you to be in jest in this instant," she teased and then joined Charlotte in her giggling.

"You have also joined your friend Miss Lucas," he complained, "I had not thought the people of Hertfordshire to be so heartless."

"That is a trait universally distributed," Elizabeth said evenly, "and not just the prerogative of the ton."

And at that Mr. George Darcy threw back his head and laughed rather loudly, gaining the attention of Miss Caroline Bingley, whose watchfulness turned to downright alarm as she observed the object of his notice to be Miss Elizabeth Bennet.

"Guilty," he placed his hand on his heart and bowed slightly as if wounded, "very, very guilty."

"Pray is there not going to be any music tonight?" Miss Bingley joined them and directed her rude question towards Charlotte.

"I was just about to ask my friend Elizabeth here to play for us," she replied good-naturedly.

"Indeed," Miss Bingley turned her sharp green eyes towards Elizabeth and said with no little amount of sarcasm, "I was not aware that you played Miss Eliza. Pray do you sing as well?"

"Rest assured Miss Bingley," not one to take an insult lying down, Elizabeth mocked her interrogator, "I have not taken offense at your ignorance of my musical talents, we have, after all, only met once. And yes, I do sing as well but I shall not be doing so today."

Miss Bingley looked quite red as Mr. George looked appreciatively at her. Charlotte, sensing the discomfort of almost all four of them, decided to make good on her words.

"Would you honour us with a piece or two, Lizzy?" She asked somewhat warily. Elizabeth nodded and both of them were about to make their way towards the pianoforte when Mr. George Darcy stopped them.

"Would you allow me to turn pages for you?" He asked Elizabeth in a tone that spoke of his assurance that he could never be denied what he asked of any lady. Elizabeth suddenly felt riled at the whole Netherfield party.

"I do not want to monopolize solely on your time Mr. Darcy," she replied somewhat coldly, "Charlotte shall turn pages for me."

"I assure you the case is quite the opposite," he smiled a knowing smile, "it is** I** who would much rather monopolize **your** time Miss Elizabeth than do anything else. Besides I am an excellent page turner, Miss Lucas cannot match my skill in **that."**

Elizabeth tried really hard but the laughter bubbled inside her and spilled out in full force before she could stop it. _'An excellent page turner indeed,' _she thought as she led the way towards the pianoforte taking a chuckling Charlotte with her and leaving a seething Miss Bingley behind.

The evening carried on in much the same vein and for Elizabeth mostly in the company of Charlotte and Mr. George Darcy who really did monopolize on her time amidst cold glares from Miss Bingley, hopeful glances from Mrs. Bennet, amused observation from Mr. Bennet and jealous stares from her younger sisters.

As soon as they reached home Mrs. Bennet started gloating about the success of her daughters.

"Oh Mr. Bennet," she cried as she almost laid down on the couch while her husband helped himself to a stiff drink and her daughters scattered about the comfortable if not too spacious parlour, "did you see how the gentlemen from Netherfield doted upon my girls?"

"Not all of your girls Mama," complained Lydia, "your older two maneuvered so that they would not even look at another girl there."

"Oh hush Lydia," Mrs. Bennet admonished albeit softly, "Jane never maneuvers; her beauty is enough to make gentlemen become completely besotted with her without her trying very hard."

Elizabeth rolled her eyes and shared a private look of exasperation with her father. Mrs. Bennet always favoured Jane in all matters, great or small, but her next statement came as a surprise to her.

"And Lizzy is too headstrong to know that it is good to sometimes encourage a gentleman," she looked sternly at her second elder and least favourite daughter, but then her look softened, "thank the Lord that Mr. George Darcy is not the kind of man who needs much in the way of encouragement."

All the girls giggled and Mr. Bennet sighed heavily.

"Do you have anything else to discuss or is your catharsis of the evening at an end?" He mocked, "for I do have a book to get back to."

"There are more important things than mere books on the line here Mr. Bennet," she adopted quite a superior demeanor.

"Do not hesitate to enlighten me, my dear," he stifled a groan, "I always cherish your words of wisdom."

"As you should," her neck straightened ever so slightly, "our daughters are very soon going to marry men of much import and stature in the society…"

"Mama," cried the said daughters in protest and Elizabeth took it from there, "how could you say such a thing? I do not know about Mr. Bingley, but I solemnly assure you that Mr. George Darcy has no such idea and nor have I."

"Indeed, I am sure that Mr. Bingley is not thinking of matrimony at this juncture either Mama," Jane also backed Elizabeth's statement.

"Nonsense girls," she waved a hand in the air to reject their arguments, "I know when a gentleman has it bad when I see one."

"Of course," drawled Mr. Bennet, "and gentlemen used to the highest society even among the ton almost **always** have it bad after two meetings with country damsels, preferably not in distress."

Elizabeth laughed out loud despite herself as did her sisters. Mrs. Bennet merely looked on indignantly.

"Mr. Bennet can say whatever he wants, but the truth of the matter is that Mr. Bingley and Mr. George Darcy shall very soon ask for the hands of our eldest two daughters," Mrs. Bennet carried on despite the vague protestations from the said daughters accompanied by a grunt from their father, "but in order to speed up any such development, we must ensure that they meet on regular basis and therefore we shall invite them to dinner on Tuesday next."

Again she ignored the sounds of protestations and grunts arising from various corners of the room for various reasons (for Mary grunted only because she thought it a respectable mode of hiding a burp), and swept off from the room with the aplomb of a lady born at the French court.

* * *

George Darcy had spent the time between the Meryton Assembly and the gathering at the Lucas Lodge only in anticipation of meeting Miss Elizabeth Bennet, and the meeting when it did take place, did not disappoint in the least. He had quite liked her spirit at the assembly but that she was a beautiful woman also did not hurt.

He watched Miss Elizabeth carefully as she stood next to him talking in her vivacious manner with her friend Miss Lucas. They laughed at something and he smiled without knowing what the matter was, such was the quality of Miss Elizabeth's laughter, it made him react without thinking. She was tall, taller than most women he knew, but not too tall to be pronounced manly, he shook his head lightly as Miss Lucas teased Miss Elizabeth about something that made her wrinkle her pert little nose, she could never be pronounced that, for there was something distinctly feminine about her. Her curves were not those of the fashionable women from of ton, who took ample measures to make themselves look more pleasing to the opposite sex, he was quite sure that Miss Elizabeth had done no such thing for she was very slender, and yet she still somehow managed to look appealing.

Her porcelain complexion was accentuated by her chestnut hair with lighter streaks as they caught the light from the candles and lips that looked sculpted to perfection. Indeed her lips had caught and held his attention quite a lot on this evening, but it was her eyes that he thought most bewitching, they were of a unique shade, sometimes orange and sometimes sparkling brown. Amber, she had told him, amber was the colour of her eyes.

"…kind of a marriage would it be, Charlotte?" He came back from the contemplation of her eyes as she questioned her friend about something, "a marriage can survive without love, but it cannot be a happy one."

"So whenever you shall marry," he looked at her deeply, "it would be for love?"

"What else is there to marry for Mr. Darcy?" She arched an eyebrow at him.

"People often have motives quite different from mere love when they contemplate matrimony," he argued, "and not always as noble either."

"Then I am glad that I am not one of those people," she returned firmly, "and would remain to be so."

"You shall never be able to convince Lizzy of any other reason to be married," Miss Lucas interjected pleasantly, "she has a pretty single tracked mind when it comes to this point."

"And so you shall never marry if the right man does not come along?" He looked at her in surprise. Surely she had nothing to live on if she did not get married, the Bennets were certainly not rich.

"I would much rather be single and lonely than married and miserable," she smiled, "but you do not have to concur with my views, you can marry for whatever reason you think right."

"Oh but I do agree with you in this, Miss Elizabeth," he said with spirit, "we are absolutely like minded here, for to marry without love cannot bring you happiness, and I for one, am in a constant pursuit of it."

Miss Elizabeth looked carefully at him as he saw her eyes change colour, perhaps in disapproval.

"Do you always agree so readily to everything that anyone says," she mocked, "or is it only the ladies that you try to please so?"

George felt stunned for a moment, no one, not even Miss Helena Campbell, whom he had courted for almost two months had ever challenged him in such an impertinent manner.

"And what do you take objection to," he asked her when he had mastered his ire, "to me agreeing with you or to me agreeing with you **for love?" **George was an old hand at flirtation and knew how to turn words to his advantage quite well and this country maid, no matter how bewitching, was not going to outwit him.

"Oh nothing," she shrugged her shoulders with indifference, another thing that George was not used to, "I just dearly love to argue, and a conversation that flows too smoothly, starts to bore me after a while."

He was surprised yet again by this strange creature. He had come across many a bold and straight forward woman, but none had spoken her mind in front of George as if she did not give a damn about him. He felt oddly insulted. Miss Charlotte guessed at his discomfort and the ladies excused themselves and took off towards another corner of the room leaving him to his thoughts.

As George watched Miss Elizabeth move away, he once again felt that she was an exceptional woman. She was not afraid to argue, and unfortunately too apt at winning one if it arose. A woman both intelligent and beautiful, _'what on Earth is she doing here in a remote corner of Hertfordshire?' _He thought.

A devilish smile graced his lips as he contemplated Darcy's words when he had told him in jest not to come out of Caroline Bingley's room, but he had said no such thing about Miss Elizabeth Bennet. He stared at her as she stood discussing something in earnest with a few officers, no wonder giving them a shock in the process, just like she had given him one. He wondered what it would feel like to come out of her room and felt a thrill surge through him. _'Yes,' _he thought contentedly, _'that is how I am going to spend my time here, trying to woo this impertinent madam.'_

* * *

Weeks passed and Mr. George Darcy became more bewitched by Miss Elizabeth Bennet with every passing minute. But not being of a high moral fiber, his mind never drifted towards why he was so attracted to her. He only took her as a woman who did not return his advances, in fact snubbed them on every available oppourtunity, quite politely, of course. But the more she resisted his charms (to be fair in his eyes they were charms) the more enticing she seemed to him and his resolve to somehow approach her room strengthened after each meeting.

On the other hand, Elizabeth, after the first few meetings became somewhat wary of him. Even though he never gave her cause to doubt him or his motives, she did not feel completely at ease in his company, despite enjoying it immensely. These conflicting emotions confused her sometimes, for everything (and her mother) spoke in his favour, yet there was **that **in his manner that made her doubt that this amiable side was all there was to him. And so she met him with perfect cordiality, for there was no reason to be rude but she could not bring herself to take him in a romantic light or to envisage a future with him. Her heart was and remained untouched.

* * *

But fate, and Caroline Bingley saw enough to decide to take matters into her own hands. After weeks of observation and deliberation, the fortune hunter from town decided to bring the growing intimacy, as that is how things seemed to her, between Mr. George Darcy (her soon to be brother), and that conniving, sharp tongued, ill-mannered Miss Elizabeth Bennet, into Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy's (her soon to be husband) notice.

But she could not very well go and write him a letter, so she decided to write a seemingly innocent letter to that dear girl Miss Georgiana Darcy (her soon to be sister) and hope against hopes that she would inform her elder brother of what her younger one was doing.

My Dearest Miss Darcy,

I hope this letter finds you in good health. How are your studies going? I hope you are doing immensely well at your Latin and I am sure that by now your skill at the pianoforte must far surpass that of any lady of the ton. I truly miss you for nice as the country air is, Hertfordshire can be no match to our dear Derbyshire.

Our brothers, Charles and Mr. George Darcy, however, are enjoying themselves vastly. The locals have been very welcoming but very unsophisticated and loud, to be sure, towards us. A lot of gatherings are arranged and we have to attend them all. I wish you were here to keep me from the unending boredom.

There is as a ray of light in all of this though. Mr. George Darcy is on his way to be quite in love with a pretty girl here as is my brother with her elder sister, there must be something in the country air. The girls are all right I suppose, but I have never seen your dear brother so besotted with anyone before in a manner that he is with the woman I am telling you about. I just hope that either you or Mr. Darcy would be here when he announces his engagement, for it is quite a settled thing among the residents of Meryton.

There is not much else to report. I hope you shall be able to join us soon, for I do so miss you. Pay my regards to your brother and know that you and your family would always be welcome at Netherfield Park, should you choose to come anytime at all.

Yours affectionately,

Caroline Bingley.

* * *

Darcy kept resolutely turned towards the window of his study, staring outside at the busy London morning, his mind absolutely flummoxed at the piece of news his sister had just innocently imparted.

"Is it not a wonderful thing brother," Georgiana Darcy asked in excitement as she folded the letter from Miss Caroline Bingley, "who could have thought that George would find his heart's desire at Hertfordshire?"

"Who indeed?" Darcy drawled, unable to keep some of his irritation seeping into his voice, his face still turned to the window.

"Are you not happy with what Miss Bingley has communicated?" Georgiana sensed something amiss and was quick to question him.

"The question of happiness shall only arise once I am sure that the news is true," he turned around at last and said gravely, "till then I shall only be indifferent." _'And worried,' _he thought secretly.

"But why would Miss Bingley lie about such a thing?" Georgiana asked in confusion.

_'Many reasons,' _thought Darcy. She could be lying to lure him thither for she knew well his sensitivity towards whom his siblings married and might play on that to get him to come to Hertfordshire. But something told him that this was not a ploy to get him to come to her, something was definitely afoot.

"I did not say that she has lied, Gina," he smiled for his beloved sister's benefit for he was not known to indulge in such an act outside his close circle, "but there is a chance that she could have been mistaken."

"Oh," Georgiana's blue eyes, so like George's, lost some of their shine, "I had hoped…," she left the sentence unfinished as she busied herself with making tea in order to hide her feelings from her brother's piercing grey gaze.

Darcy sighed and walked towards where she sat and took a seat next to her. He was aware that for some years now, Georgiana had been hoping to acquire a sister and even though both her brothers were only too ready to comply with anything she ever wished for, this was something that they had consistently been disappointing her at.

"Lady Felicity Barrington and Miss Margaret Stark," the footman announced and both brother and sister were jolted from their thoughts. Georgiana looked questioningly at Darcy and he immediately stood up.

"Have them seated in the morning parlour and we shall be right down," he commanded and the footman left.

"Oh I do like Lady Felicity," Georgiana's young face lit up again as she eyed her brother, "maybe you…," she left her sentence unfinished in the hopes that he might take a hint.

"You go on ahead and join the ladies Gina," he felt slightly embarrassed at the hint that she had almost dropped, "I shall join you presently."

Georgiana nodded happily and walked out the study closing the door behind her. Darcy sat down and picked up his tea as he thought about the letter Georgiana had just received. Could George really be having an affair with a country girl, or was it just another one of his conquests that he was going to leave behind along with a scandal? He had given his younger brother fair warning that if anything of this nature happened again, he would make sure that George accepted the consequences.

Darcy had no question about what he was going to do if George gave in to his fancy once again, he would have George marry the girl no matter how poor or below their station she was. He would brook no impediments towards Georgiana's approaching coming out and George must be made to see reason. He took a large sip of the hot dark liquid and grimaced, the tea was too strong and he never added milk or sugar.

He drained the cup and sat back. His mother had died when he was sixteen and his father five years after, life had been a burden of responsibilities since then. His brother George, though only two years his junior, had always behaved like a juvenile, refusing to mature or act sensibly. The company he kept could be blamed for some of his raucous behaviour, '_but after all he chose to keep that company, nobody forced it on him,'_ Darcy thought in irritation. Ever since he had graduated from Cambridge, it had been one scandal after another till Darcy did not know how to hush them up anymore. He could not understand his brother's fascination with the opposite sex and amorous activities which he constantly indulged in with them.

_'George needed an eye on him,'_ Darcy decided to himself. He got up determined to go to Hertfordshire and put a stop to whatever scheme of merrymaking his brother had concocted. He walked out the study door and started descending the steps, making his way towards the morning parlour where Georgiana's guests were seated.

"Lady Felicity, Miss Stark," he bowed to the two fashionably dressed young women who nodded and smiled but did not simper or fawn over him like Miss Bingley.

"Has Barrington not come with you," Darcy asked after they had settled down, "I was hoping to have a word with him about something."

"Oh Perry is never to be seen nowadays," Lady Felicity said with a wave of her hand, "he is always at White's, betting on one thing or another."

"He does tend to win most of them," Darcy said dryly and the two guests giggled.

"That is because he is the inventor of most of the rumors going about town," Lady Felicity's beautiful green eyes filled up with mirth as Miss Stark and Georgiana chuckled.

"I have never seen any man more fond of gossiping than my cousin, I assure you Mr. Darcy," Miss Stark smiled fondly at the thought of the young Lord Barrington, just lately made the Earl of Henley after his father's death.

Darcy smiled briefly and then remained quiet as the ladies talked among them. The Barringtons were old friends, known to the Darcys even before his birth. Peregrine Barrington had been instrumental in diverting attention away from George Darcy on more occasions than one, for which Darcy was infinitely thankful to him.

Darcy looked up to find Lady Felicity's eyes on him, she smiled briefly as she caught his and then turned towards Georgiana. She was a beautiful woman, with soft brown hair and almond shaped green eyes. He wondered why he had not noticed her before this year, for it was only recently that he had discovered the charms of her person as well as her conversation. He had been courting her for a few months now, in his guarded reserved manner, so that he could know her without either raising her hopes or making the tongues of London's gossipmongers wag, so far he had been successful in eluding them.

She said something and Georgiana laughed. Darcy was decided, he would propose to Lady Felicity as soon as he was through with the new mess that George had created at Hertfordshire. She belonged to a great and noble family, comported herself with decorum, held her own among any kind of gathering, was beautiful and kind. She was exactly what their family needed, so what if he was not in love with her, that would come with time. For now he was content to have found a woman who would not only prove to be an ideal mistress of Pemberley but also an excellent role model for Georgiana.

After a tête-à-tête of half an hour more, the ladies got up to leave and the Darcys led them outside through the front door to their carriage.

"Would I see you at the Campbell ball Mr. Darcy?" She asked as she climbed down the few steps and walked towards the carriage.

"I am afraid that would not be possible," Darcy said regretfully, "for I am traveling to Hertfordshire to meet my brother, tomorrow."

"Indeed," she said in a slightly dull voice.

"But you shall see me at Pemberley," he said pleasantly, "you and your brother are coming in May are you not?"

"Of course," her eyes brightened again as Darcy first handed Miss Stark and then Lady Felicity into the carriage, "I have been looking forward to it ever since you made the invitation Mr. Darcy," she dimpled beautifully at him.

Not knowing how to respond in a manner that would not seem flirtatious, he simply bowed and then watched the carriage move away with satisfaction.

"Are you really leaving as soon as tomorrow, William?" Georgiana asked after the front door of the house was shut behind them.

"Yes dearest," he nodded as they climbed the stairs together, "George needs me."

"But what shall I do here with the two of you gone?" She asked somewhat petulantly.

"What you have been doing while we were here," he patted her fair head fondly as they reached the doors of his study, "learn Latin and practice music." Darcy watched her face fall in dejection and hurried to console her, "I shan't be long Gina, and when I come back, George shall come with me. Lady Margery and Mrs. Annesley shall keep you company in the meanwhile."

Georgiana's face brightened and she fairly skipped away towards her rooms. Darcy entered his study, determined to bring George back to his senses.

**Next Chapter: Enter: Darcy**


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3: Enter: Darcy**

George whistled the tune that Miss Elizabeth had played at the Phillips's dinner a few days ago, as he remembered how she had frowned in concentration and how he had longed to smooth her brow while he beheld her. He was no judge of how well a lady performed at the pianoforte or music in general, except when it was music he could dance with a fair lady to, but whatever Miss Elizabeth played sounded pleasant to him.

He was just handing his horse to the stable boy when a team of greys, well known to him was brought to the stable by the Darcy's coachman.

"Barry," George called out in surprise, "what on Earth are **you** doing here?"

"Good day Mr. George," he bowed respectfully, "I brought Mr. Darcy from town just now."

"William," George almost cried out, "you mean William is here at Netherfield?"

"Arrived just this moment, Sir," Barry looked oddly at his young master.

"Indeed," he said thoughtfully and then began walking towards the main house.

He was at a complete loss as to what could have brought Darcy to Hertfordshire in such a hurry. He weighed the idea of Darcy somehow finding out about his intentions towards Miss Elizabeth Bennet and coming hither to stop him but then rejected that surmise, after all, who could have told him?

"William," he said in greeting to a freshly bathed Darcy sitting in the morning parlour with the whole Bingley clan, "what a pleasant surprise."

"George," Darcy got up and shook hands warmly with his younger brother, "I decided to come see the beautiful countryside of Hertfordshire after listening to Bingley sing its praises among blots and smudges in his letter."

"Come man," Bingley remained unabashed, "you know how to decipher my words by now." Darcy smiled.

"You must have set out in the dead of the night to be here so early," George took a seat near a sleeping Mr. Hurst.

"I did start rather early," Darcy admitted and then smiled, "Georgiana sends her love."

George felt a moment's guilt at not only having ignored his precious sister but also indulging in an activity that William had warned him against, for the sake of the said sister.

"Why, you should have brought dear Georgiana with you Mr. Darcy," Miss Bingley cooed from her place near the window, "we are starved for decent company here."

"Miss Darcy would have been most welcome," Bingley jumped in to defend the honour of Hertfordshire, "but we are by no means **starved **for decent company, I assure you Darcy. The people of Hertfordshire have been most amiable and welcoming."

"Indeed," George teased with a smile, "quite angelic, if I may say so," and then observed the mounting colour on Bingley's cheeks with interest. "How was everyone in town?" He then thought it better to change the subject.

"Very well," Darcy replied briefly, "how have you been spending your time here, not getting bored I hope?"

"Oh not at all," Bingley intervened before George could say something, "his time is quite well spent I assure you, even if not quite so **angelic."**

George laughed heartily at Bingley's quip. Indeed Miss Elizabeth could hardly be called angelic, quite the opposite as far as her tongue was concerned.

"My time has been spent most pleasantly," he smiled at his brother who was eying him somewhat suspiciously, "the company has been excellent and the parties just as pleasant as the one's among ton at this time of the year, though not quite so frequent."

"In fact we have a dinner even today at the Bennets," Miss Bingley uttered in a slightly miffed tone," but I suppose we can excuse ourselves on the plea of house guests having arrived," she then looked rather sultrily at Darcy and said in a simpering voice, "though we do not consider you a guest Mr. Darcy, you are like family to us."

George hid his chuckle behind a cough and Darcy his grimace behind a half smile.

"There is no need for that Caroline," Bingley said triumphantly, "as soon as Darcy arrived I dispatched a note to Mrs. Bennet informing her that we shall have an additional member with our party tonight. Her reply must be coming any moment now."

"But Charles," Miss Bingley admonished him, "Mr. Darcy must be tired after the journey, you should have simply cancelled."

"It is no bother Miss Bingley," Darcy assured her in his deep voice, "Bingley sent the note after confirming it with me. I shall be delighted to accompany your party tonight."

George turned towards Darcy and a look passed between the brothers that would have made them laugh out loud if a footman had not knocked and entered at the same moment.

"A note from Mrs. Bennet, sir," he extended the silver letter carrier to Bingley and he picked up the note and read it through after dismissing the footman.

"It is as I said," Bingley beamed and told everyone in a loud voice, "Mrs. Bennet shall be pleased to receive Mr. Darcy."

Mr. Hurst jumped rather alarmingly at the sound of his voice and then fell off the sofa he was reclined on, providing the two brothers a much needed excuse to air the laughter that had been cooped up inside them for at least half an hour.

* * *

"Is it not a wonderful thing Lizzy?" Mrs. Bennet asked her second daughter, who looked quite bored with the discussion at hand, after sending a note to Mr. Bingley telling him that Mr. Darcy would be most welcome at dinner that night, "I am absolutely sure that Mr. George Darcy's elder brother has come here on the express purpose of meeting you."

"And why would he do that," Elizabeth asked in exasperation, "what interest could he possibly have in me when he has neither met nor, I am sure, heard anything about me?"

"Do not talk nonsense with me Lizzy," Mrs. Bennet smiled indulgently at her, "I am sure that Mr. George Darcy must have asked him to come here and approve of his choice."

"But we heard not a word about any impending visit of his from Mr. Bingley or Mr. George Darcy, which basically means that they were just as much in the dark as we were about this visit of his," Elizabeth argued, "and I assure you Mama that Mr. George Darcy is not interested in me at all."

"La," Lydia yawned from her perch by the window, "all this talk of who is interested in whom is making me nauseous Mama, may we go to Lucas Lodge?"

"No, my dear," Mrs. Bennet refused, "you must sit inside and prepare for the dinner for you never know which one of you might take the fancy of Mr. Darcy."

"No one is going to take anyone's fancy Mama," Elizabeth looked towards Jane for help but she just shrugged her shoulders helplessly as Kitty and Lydia whispered to each other about the yet unseen Mr. Darcy. She sighed and continued, "these are men who are used to the ladies from the highest circle of the ton, they would not even have looked at us twice if we were not the only females available."

"Elizabeth Bennet," Mrs. Bennet cried in high dudgeon, "this attitude is not going to get you any husbands tonight."

**"No attitude **is going to get me any husband tonight Mama," she said emphatically, "for the last time, Mr. George Darcy is not attached to me."

"Well I never," Mrs. Bennet huffed and stood up, "if you do not behave with the utmost courtesy towards the gentlemen tonight Lizzy, I shall see to it that your trip to the lakes with my brother Gardiner does not take place." Elizabeth paled at this but Mrs. Bennet continued regardless, "you shall pay the maximum attention to both Mr. George Darcy and his brother. Now go and fetch the flowers required for the flower arrangement in the dinning parlour and have it and yourself ready before the guests are to arrive."

Elizabeth got up and stomped out of the parlour calling Mr. George Darcy all manner of names. It was because of him that Mrs. Bennet had made her life a classroom in which she constantly gave her lectures on how to win a gentleman's heart, how to comport herself when a gentleman shows interest in you and the latest, how to win the favour of the said gentleman's older and wealthier brother.

Mrs. Bennet talked and talked until Elizabeth wanted to pull her hair out by the roots. She crouched down to pick the blossoms when something in the flowerbed arrested her attention, it was Jane's kitten Merlin, a gift from the Gouldings. Elizabeth picked it up to see why it was lying so lazily and it meowed as if in pain. She frowned, maybe the poor kitten was injured. Informing Jane was useless for Mama was not going to let her out of her sight today and Jane would become needlessly worried.

"Mr. Wicks," she called the gardener.

"Yes Miss," he came towards her.

"Could you please send one of your boys to ask Mr. Jones's new assistant to pay us a visit," she requested, "this kitten needs a doctor and I do not know who else to call for Mr. Jones has gone to visit his daughter."

"Right away Miss," he nodded and walked off.

Elizabeth collected the rest of the flowers and took them and Merlin to the back of the house after informing Mrs. Hill to send the new apothecary to the shed under which she was going to put together the arrangement and keep an eye on the little kitten. It was getting late and the guests would start arriving anytime and she had not even made the floral arrangement yet, let alone washed and changed. Mama was definitely going to wail loudly about her nerves if she were to see her in this state.

She sped up her efforts when she heard the carriages arrive and prayed for Mr. Jones's assistant to come quickly. Just as she was putting the finishing touches to the blossoms, he came. Elizabeth felt surprised at his appearance, for it far exceeded her expectations of what an apothecary's assistant would look like. _'Why he is even more handsome than Mr. George Darcy,' _she thought in awe and then took him to the shed and asked him to examine Merlin, explaining the need for urgency and secrecy.

For some reason he seemed somewhat miffed and very reserved, but Elizabeth had other things on her mind. The poor kitten had sprained an ankle and he readily put it to rights. Elizabeth thanked him, took him discreetly inside to the wash closet to wash his hands and asked him to see himself out for she was too busy to perform the office and then quickly ran up the stairs for everyone had already arrived and she was horribly late.

She immediately encountered Mama's deathly glare on entering the parlour and therefore thought it better to take refuge in Mr. Bennet's company, who was standing with a few of the gentlemen. She curtseyed and turned towards her father, without looking at them.

"Is Mama too angry?" She asked anxiously in a low voice.

"Nothing that cannot be amended by paying some attention to the right gentleman," his eyes twinkled.

"I wonder who that is," she rolled her eyes.

"My second daughter, Miss Elizabeth Bennet," Mr. Bennet turned towards the gentlemen and Elizabeth wondered who he could be introducing her to for there was not any one that she did not know in their circle, "and Elizabeth," he turned towards her and pointed to a tall dark-haired gentleman, "This is Mr. George Darcy's older brother, Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy."

Elizabeth stood stunned, her mouth agape, staring at Mr. Jones's new assistant who had just treated Merlin's ankle. She gulped and returned his bow with a clumsy curtsey of her own, _'so much for Mama's hope of making a good first impression on Mr. George Darcy's brother,' _she thought and was quickly restored to good humour.

* * *

Darcy hated being late for any event, be it only a routine meeting with his steward or something as mundane as an afternoon tea. His late father had instilled the importance of time and punctuality in him so diligently that it had now become second nature to him. Therefore it was with much mortification that he told Bingley to go on ahead to the Bennets and that he would join them as soon as he could.

Not accustomed to the Bingley household's habit of delaying everything till the last moment, Darcy's valet had for the first time in his life been unable to have his fastidious master's clothes pressed on time, thereby making him late as well as angry. But Darcy was more sensible that to take his poor valet to task for something that was not his fault, so even though he did not say anything to Smyth, he did seethe inwardly at the ill discipline of Bingley's staff, especially when he heard the carriages roll away.

Darcy arrived some twenty minutes after the rest of the party at Longbourn. He took in the estate as he got off the carriage and dismissed it. It was an old but well kept building and the landscaping was nicely done but the fact remained that at least eight such could easily be accommodated at Pemberley. He stepped towards the front door when it was suddenly thrown open and an old maid came out in a hurry.

"Oh good," she squinted at him, "you are here, Miss Lizzy has been expecting you for half an hour at least."

Darcy blinked, whatever welcome he had expected, **this** far surpassed it. _'Who the deuce was Miss Lizzy, and why was she expecting him?' _He thought.

"Just turn around the corner," the maid pointed towards the back of the house, "and you would find her in the shed." Darcy opened his mouth to protest but the maid, though old, was surprisingly quick. He found himself eating her dust in no more than a moment.

Still perplexed, he thought that maybe it was part of some strange welcoming custom in the Bennet household and considered it better to follow the maid's instructions rather than stand around like a fool or enter the house without being announced first. As he turned the corner, he saw some activity in a shed a little way off. He walked hesitantly towards it when two extremely bright eyes peered at him from behind a myriad of flowers in a vase.

"Thank God you have arrived," a tall, svelte girl stepped aside from behind the flowers, "poor Merlin has gone and injured himself and I have no idea where and how." Darcy blinked, _'what on Earth is going on and who the devil is poor Merlin?' _He wondered in mounting confusion and irritation.

"This way please," she pointed one slender finger towards a corner where a white bundle of fur could be seen.

"Is it a kitten?" Darcy said in complete astonishment. _'Did this fool of a girl bring me here to take a look at her kitten?' _His surprise at being treated in this extremely bizarre manner was so great that for a while he forgot to be offended.

"I am sorry," she blushed then and for the first time Darcy noticed that she was indeed quite pleasant to look at, though taller than most women, "I know that you are an apothecary and maybe this does not fall under your area of expertise, but Mr. Jones is on leave, as you must know being his assistant, and I did not know who else to contact. Jane shall be miserable if she found out that her little kitten has been injured." She looked at him pleadingly with striking amber eyes that shone rather too brilliantly.

Darcy shook his head slightly to try and understand the situation. Apparently this girl thought that he was the local apothecary's assistant and wanted him to treat someone called Jane's kitten, Merlin. Was she out of her mind, in what world do the apothecaries' assistants dress as impeccably as him?

She held out the kitten for him to take a look at and as it opened its eyes and moaned, Darcy's heart melted slightly. It was just like Georgiana's kitten, Futon. He sighed and took it from her, even though he was no expert at treating animals, he had for a time in his youth entertained hopes of becoming a doctor and had practiced his hand at several puppies, kittens and even a foal and since none of them had been actually ill, Darcy had been quite satisfied with his methods of treatment.

"I think the ankle is sprained," he said after examining Merlin, "no broken bones though. Can you bring me a piece of cardboard and some bandage? I can wrap its leg up for now."

"Of course," she flashed him a beautiful smile, full of pearly teeth, "oh I am so relieved," she said as she gathered the remaining flowers, "we have a dinner tonight and I have not even changed for it," she picked up the vase and stepped towards s door, "all the guests have already arrived. Mama is going to be positively…"

Her voice faded as she disappeared behind a door. Darcy looked around and found the whole situation rather amusing. Here he was, outside a strange house, full of people he did not know, treating a kitten he had never seen before on the request of a girl who thought him to be an apothecary.

"Is this all right?" He nearly jumped at her voice, not having noticed her coming out.

"Yes," he took the supplies from her hands and bandaged Merlin up deftly, "this should be enough for now, but do show it to some expert tomorrow."

"Should I give it something for the pain," she asked in concern, "say Laudanum?"

"Laudanum?" Darcy almost lost his composure then, and stifled a chuckle with great difficulty, "no ma'am," he told her seriously after mastering himself, "maybe a spoonful of brandy, perhaps."

Her eyes widened at that but she nodded and placed the kitten in a basket.

"I would appreciate it if you kept this to yourself," she said tentatively, "Mama would be vastly displeased if she found out and Mr. Jones always tells her everything. I shall pay your fees whenever I visit Meryton next."

"Of course," he said as he tried to figure her out, "now can I wash my hands somewhere?"

"Please follow me," she led him inside through a back door, straight to a wash closet, "would you be so kind as to show yourself out after you finish here?" she asked him, "I need to prepare for the dinner and I am horribly late already."

Darcy nodded and then saw her run up the stairs. As he came out of the wash closet, a maid, a young and rather slow one this time encountered him. She apparently was on duty to fetch him as soon as he arrived and therefore announced him to the drawing room and held the door for him to enter. He bowed to everyone allowing Bingley to introduce him, and then made his way towards his host for the evening after seeing the gleaming eyes of the ladies.

They were in the middle of a discussion about war, to which Darcy contributed nothing at all, when the door opened and _'Miss Lizzy' _entered. Darcy watched as she looked around and observed Mrs. Bennet shooting daggers at her with her eyes, she quickly made her way to where he and a few other guests stood with her father. She had changed into a fresh gown of some odd shade of green, and her chestnut hair also looked neatly in place, adorned by a ribbon.

"My second daughter, Miss Elizabeth Bennet," Darcy was jolted from his contemplation of her person at the sound of Mr. Bennet's voice as he introduced her to him, "and Elizabeth," he turned towards her and pointed to him, "This is Mr. George Darcy's older brother, Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy."

Darcy briefly registered a flash of surprise on her face as he bowed down and raised his head to find her curtseying, her face crimson with obvious embarrassment. _'As well she should,' _he thought with satisfaction at her mounting colour, he was Fitzwilliam Darcy of Pemberley, a land owner of vast property and from an old and renowned family, not an apothecary's assistant of meager means.

"Miss Elizabeth," George quickly approached her with a woman he remembered as Miss Lucas from the introductions, on his arm, "I was wondering when you were going to make an appearance."

Miss Elizabeth quickly gave both her hands to Miss Lucas and an arch smile to George.

"I got held up, unfortunately," she said with a teasing smile on her lips, "I hope you have not been **wondering** long?"

"Each moment seemed like a year, Miss Elizabeth," George bent towards her in his typical flirtatious manner and Darcy quickly reached the conclusion that Miss Elizabeth must be the woman Miss Bingley had written to Georgiana about.

"And not like a decade?" Miss Elizabeth mocked, "you disappoint me Sir." Darcy stared at the young woman in front of him, _'is she making fun of George,' _he wondered at her manner, _'or merely flirting with him?'_

"Then I hope that this is the last time," George flashed her a smile that was known to make every woman, from a debutante of sixteen to a dowager duchess swoon alike, Darcy rolled his eyes, George really was being rather too charming.

"Your tendency of entertaining rather high hopes never ceases to amaze me," Miss Elizabeth once again deflected his gallant attempt at flirtation with aplomb.

George failed to come up with a decent reply to this barb and therefore bowed his head in defeat, offering the woman with fire in her eyes, his arm to escort her to the dining room as dinner was announced. Darcy a little dazed himself at the scene being played out in front of him offered his arm to Miss Lucas, and observed the amused looks exchanged between the two friends.

He now knew, beyond the shadow of a doubt, that George indeed was trying to woo Miss Elizabeth. He held out the appointed chair for Miss Lucas and then stepped towards his own, to find himself seated next to none other than Miss Elizabeth, she was decent looking but nothing out of the ordinary, the ton was brimming full of women equal to her in looks, she turned towards him and gave him a mischievous half smile, _'but not quite in intellect,_' he thought as he observed her with hooded eyes.

As the dinner started, he observed how frequently George's eyes were turned towards Miss Elizabeth and also how rarely she looked towards his side of the table. Darcy fully comprehended the charm she held for his brother, the charm of the unattainable. It was not because she was the second coming of Madonna, that his younger brother was thus infatuated with her, it was because he did not understand why she was not batting her eye lashes at him or vying for his attention or saving a special smile for him that made her so interesting an object to George.

Miss Elizabeth was either oblivious to what her indifference towards George was doing to him or highly aware of it for it was making her more and more attractive in his eyes. What bothered Darcy was that she was no Lady Margaret, someone who knew what she was getting when she invited George to her bedroom, this was a country damsel who might mistake George's manner for true love and expect him to make good on his promises when all was said and **done. **A scandal here in the heart of the country might not get to the society in town but its effects could be far reaching nonetheless.

"Your visit seems rather sudden, Mr. Darcy," he suddenly found himself being addressed by the very woman he was thinking about, "your brother led us to believe that you might not be coming to Hertfordshire anytime soon," she told him as she delicately sipped her soup.

"I had to come rather suddenly when I found out what a good time he was having," he said gravely.

"And have you come here to help him savour that good time or to put an end to it?" Her eyes flashed in amusement, "for you do not seem too keen on having any part in the good time that he seems to be having." Darcy was taken aback at her comment, no lady had ever spoken with quite so much frankness to him before, especially one that he had known only for an hour.

"Only to stop him from any imprudent decision that he might make in haste," the words were out before he could think twice upon them. He turned sharply towards her and the expression of her eyes told him that she had understood him perfectly. And yet not quite, for where Darcy had meant that he wanted to stop his brother from stirring another scandal, Miss Elizabeth might mistake his words as a sign of disapproval on the marriage between herself and George.

"If only you knew how **unwilling** that **imprudent decision** is of having been made," she said archly as she sipped her water, "you might have been saved the trouble of the journey from town to here."

Darcy was stunned as he eyed her indifferent manner. _'Is she trying to pretend that she has no interest in George, marrying whom shall double her social standing?' _He thought in mild surprise.

"That does not seem probable," he allowed the maid to clear his soup bowl and replace it with a shinning plate of steak, "for George though rather too apt to make **imprudent decisions, **is **not one **himself," he said with confidence and looked straight into her amber eyes with his cold grey ones.

"You are quite the partial older sibling," she carved through her steak and said derisively, "who is rather too aware of the vices of others but absolutely blind to the same in his brother." She placed the small piece of meat in her mouth and munched at it without batting an eyelash.

"That is where you are wrong," he replicated her actions, "for I am fully aware of the flaws in my family, and though George has his fair share of failings, they do not diminish his eligibility." Darcy wondered why he was debating the eligibility of a marriage to his brother when he knew well that it was not even close to what George must have in mind for the feisty creature sitting next to him, but then got caught up into what Miss Elizabeth was saying once again.

"I am sure what you say is true," she conceded easily, to Darcy's surprise, "for someone whose only object in life is **money."**

"Is it not everybody's object in life," he asked solemnly as he pushed the plate slightly away after finishing with the last course, "to live comfortably."

"No doubt," she again acceded, only to contradict him on the next turn, "but that cannot be a person's only ambition in life. For to live for money and comfort alone, is hardly any life at all," she dabbed delicately at her lips with the napkin. The meal had come to an end.

"And what do you want from your life Miss Elizabeth," he asked as he stood up and helped her to as well, "besides money and comfort, of course?" He mocked.

"Me? Well I am rather greedy," Miss Elizabeth told him, tipping her head to a side, as the ladies started to proceed towards the drawing room and the men towards Mr. Bennet's study for a much needed drink of port, "I want it **all**, Mr. Darcy," she said firmly, **"or nothing."**

Darcy blinked, now that was an answer he had not expected.

* * *

Elizabeth was still determining if she should be offended at Mr. Darcy's shocking disapproval of her as a bride for his brother or laugh at his presumption, when the gentlemen started returning to the drawing room after having their customary drink. She stood on the sidelines with Jane and Charlotte as her mother hoarded everyone towards the card tables.

"Shall you play?" Charlotte asked them both and Jane quickly shook her head, she never had any interest in he cards. "And you Lizzy?" She then asked Elizabeth.

"Only in order to avoid the two Darcy brothers," Elizabeth said in irritation.

"I did see you change colour during dinner," Jane said in concern, "what did Mr. Darcy say to you?"

"I shall reveal all but now is not the time and place," Elizabeth said in a low voice as she saw Mr. Bingley approaching with his guests. He quickly singled Jane out and both of them stood a little apart from the rest of the party in a world of their own.

"You must partner me Miss Elizabeth," Mr. George Darcy requested pleasantly of her while his brother stood quietly by his side observing her through hooded eyes, fueling her already rising ire. She took a deep breath and did not open her mouth till she was sure of not spitting fire.

"I am afraid I shall have to decline," she said with as much politeness as she could muster.

"Well then, we can always sit somewhere and have a nice discussion," he smiled a smug smile.

"I am to play with my father, Sir William and Charlotte, Mr. George," she said gravely, "and therefore would be unavailable for any discussion." Her father raised his hand to her in question just then and Elizabeth nodded in assent. "Pardon me," she said without smiling, "but I have to go to him. I hope you shall find an excellent partner," Elizabeth said pointedly as she looked straight into the eyes of Mr. George Darcy, "but it **shan't** be **me."**

She dimly registered the surprise on the Darcys faces, and felt oddly consoled. As they made there way to their fathers' table, Charlotte whispered in her ear,

"If that was a hint for Mr. George Darcy to leave you alone, my dear Lizzy, I assure you that it fell on deaf ears."

"Charlotte I…," Elizabeth hesitated for a moment as they reached the table where Mr. Bennet and Sir William sat and turned towards her, "do come tomorrow, I have a lot to discuss with you."

Charlotte nodded and they sat down to cards, opposite their fathers. As cards got shuffled and distributed, Elizabeth raised her eyes to find Mr. Bingley and Mr. George Darcy partnered against Mr. Darcy and Mrs. Bennet on the table next to theirs. Her eyes dilated for a moment, _'a most unholy combination,' _she shuddered and then chuckled lightly and thought _'very well deserved also.' _ While Mr. George Darcy and Mr. Bingley were trying to make the best of the situation, Mr. Darcy seemed as though his cravat was tied too tight and was looking, with what could only be called distaste, around him, his posture rigid, his expression stony.

"I see that you are determined to win, Lizzy," Mr. Bennet observed, "even in your sour mood."

"Papa," she smiled, "how well you know me and I hope that you shall play awfully so that I have one less impediment in my way to success."

"I shall try," he said from behind his cards, "but Sir William seems to be of a similar bent as you."

"Yes, Bennet," Sir William said pleasantly as he discarded a card, "why play if one has no intention of winning, but Miss Lizzy is a capital player,"

"Here Lizzy," Charlotte declared, "it is your turn to be dummy now."

Elizabeth pouted but sat back in her chair. Her eyes went towards the curiously quiet next table and she found Mr. Darcy's deep grey gaze on herself, proud and disdainful. She held it with defiance for what seemed like an eternity, but the infuriating man did not blink. And so Elizabeth turned away with a scowl, glimpsing a brief triumphant smile as she did, he certainly was a most unpleasant man and she hoped that he would take his brother and go back to the London, where such oddities belonged.

But soon the table with her mother and the gentlemen from Netherfield Park caught her attention again as Mrs. Bennet started to talk rather loudly.

"Oh, indeed," Mrs. Bennet cried and Elizabeth winced slightly, _'Mama really does need to lower her voice sometimes.' _Mrs. Bennet meanwhile was (thankfully) quite oblivious to what was going on in her daughter's mind, "my Lizzy practices singing all day long, sometimes till she is blue in the face."

Elizabeth almost fell off her chair at such a blatant and embarrassing lie. _'Blue in the face,' _She thought in utter mortification, _'is Mama praising me or mocking me?' _Just as she was lamenting Mrs. Bennet's unfortunate choice of words, her eyes fell on the two Darcys, who indeed looked quite **blue in the face,** not because they had been singing all day long, but because they were obviously trying to stifle their laughter. What Mr. Bingley thought or did, she knew not, for he had his back to her and was mostly absorbed in Jane since she sat between him and Mrs. Bennet to observe the game.

"And my Kitty," now her attention was all towards Mr. Darcy. Elizabeth closed her eyes for a moment in fear of what was to come, "my Kitty, well, she…is…a…most," Mrs. Bennet floundered a little since poor Kitty had nothing much to recommend her, "well, she is an exceptional girl."

Elizabeth sighed in relief, _'now that was not so bad.' _But it seemed as though she had sighed a moment too early, for Mrs. Bennet's next words left her in a cold sweat.

"She never argues or talks impertinently," Mrs. Bennet went ahead with her gloating, taking the gentlemen's silence for agreement, "She shall prove to be a most obedient wife, I assure you. She shall never refuse her husband **anything,** Mr. Darcy, if you know what I mean."

Mr. Darcy obviously knew **exactly **what she meant and so a stunned Elizabeth turned towards her father, but he just shrugged and went back to the game. Elizabeth could not believe that her mother would utter such an indecent thing in company of gentlemen she barely knew. Her only solace was that she had not winked at the end of the sentence. Not being able to concentrate on anything other than what her mother was saying, she turned towards that table again. Mr. Darcy did not answer and instead took his revenge on Mrs. Bennet by taking every trick, and Mr. George Darcy was now openly laughing, though trying to conceal it behind his cards.

"Kitty," Mrs. Bennet called the future obedient wife and Kitty came quickly since she had nothing else to do, "dearest, why do you not observe Mr. Darcy's game. I assure you he is a remarkable player," she sounded slightly resentful here, for Mrs. Bennet did not like to lose.

"Indeed, Mrs. Bennet," Mr. George Darcy spoke up quickly, with his blue eyes dancing with mischief, "that is a wonderful idea."

She saw Mr. Darcy stiffen up slightly and look at his brother in mild exasperation, a look that he returned with one of great amusement. If Elizabeth had not been Mrs. Bennet's daughter, she might also have found the whole situation quite diverting, but as it happened she could only find it rather humiliating.

"Is it not?" Mrs. Bennet looked around in triumph and then turned towards Kitty who had reluctantly taken her place between the Darcy brothers after a maid had placed a chair there for her. "I have often noticed that gentlemen love to be observed."

"You do us great honour Mrs. Bennet," Mr. Darcy said dryly as he claimed yet another trick, "but I would have found nothing better than to be thoroughly **ignored,** tonight,"

"Oh Mr. Darcy," Mrs. Bennet laughed hysterically and without anyone having said anything even remotely humorous, "how droll you are."

Elizabeth could take no more of this crudeness by her mother and therefore quickly turned her eyes towards the game, just in time for Sir William to be dummy. Indeed she might not have been able to stand her mother's monologue on the various qualities of her daughters and the preferences of gentlemen, even if she had had the option to listen to her anymore.

**A/N: **Some readers have asked if George Darcy has a profession, the answer is **no** and the reason will be given in Chapter 10.

**Next Chapter: An Even Worse Second Impression  
**


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4: An even Worse Second Impression**

George came back from the Dinner at Longbourn frustrated and irked. The behaviour of Elizabeth (he had given up thinking of her as a Miss) could be called aloof at best. She had ignored him throughout the dinner as she chatted animatedly with Darcy and had also refused to play at cards with him. She was proving to be far tougher than he might have initially thought her to be, and with Darcy in the picture, making her come to her knees would prove to be even more difficult than before.

He took a large gulp of brandy and was pacing the length of Bingley's study in his agitation when Darcy entered and approached him in his usual masterful gait.

"I must ask you George," he said in an authoritative manner, "what are your intentions towards Miss Elizabeth Bennet?"

George almost winced. It was exactly like Darcy to go directly for the jugular, without beating around the bush. So his brother had noticed his interest in Elizabeth and now would either admonish him till the fear of God was firmly put inside his heart or would forcibly take him back to London, a prospect which currently held no charms for George, or at least no charms greater than those of Elizabeth.

He turned away on the pretense of preparing a drink for his brother, there was nothing to it but to lie through his teeth if he wanted to stay here and pursue that insolent chit of a girl who had become a challenge to him.

"Very honourable I assure you," he said as he handed him his glass.

"Do you mean that you want to marry her?" Darcy looked and sounded incredulous.

"Of course William," he said with as much false sincerity as he could muster, somehow it did not seem forced, "she has no money or connections, or even your usual brand of good looks. Why else do you think am I degrading myself as such?"

"You cannot be serious George," Darcy took a large gulp of the sparkling liquid, "you can have any girl of your choice from a much better family than the Bennets, why her?"

"Because I want her," he said vehemently, and that much was true, he did want her, rather desperately, "she is the **one, **William. And do not try to lecture me about Georgiana or the family name for as long as **you** marry well, the marriage of a second son to a nobody would hardly matter." George Darcy felt quite proud of his acting skills just then, as he saw the look on Darcy's face, for he seemed convinced of his sincerity if not his choice.

"Have you not met her mother?" Darcy asked in disbelief and George grinned at the thought of the ever obliging Mrs. Bennet, "she literally hunts gentlemen down for her daughters."

"I do not mind as long as the reward is **one** of her daughters," he smiled broadly now, once again he had managed to pull wool over Darcy's piercing grey eyes. Now if he could just convince him to go back to London.

"Her daughter does not even look at you for two moments together," Darcy said coldly and George felt stung, "perhaps that is the reason you think that she is the **one. **The charm of the unattainable, eh?"

"Do not try to ruin this for me William," George's voice became miserable, pleading. He could not understand the sudden bout of emotions, "for I shall not be talked out of this."

"Perhaps you really are serious this time George," Darcy placed his empty glass on the table and took a step closer to him as he looked rather menacingly down at his little brother, for he was one of the very few men who were taller than George, "but believe this, if you have anything other than marriage on your mind, I shall make sure to erase it and make you do the right thing this time." And then he turned around and left, slamming the door behind him.

George sighed in relief. For now the danger of Darcy discovering his plans was averted but it would not take him long to know what his actual scheme was, and that is why removing Darcy from Netherfield Park was very important. He did not dwell on the strange feeling that had him in its grip a few minutes ago and simply dismissed it as fear of his older brother.

* * *

It had been more than a week since that awful dinner at Longbourn and Elizabeth still could not stop herself from feeling some irritation at the younger and a lot of anger at the older Darcy brother. She had resolutely been avoiding them both and quite successfully too, with the help of her sisters and father of course. Avoiding Mr. Darcy was no problem at all as he never visited their house after the dinner, but his younger brother was a whole other story.

Mr. George Darcy came almost every day with Mr. Bingley to pay a morning call on Jane, whom the owner of Netherfield Park was now openly courting. Elizabeth knew the time they usually arrived at and usually asked Lydia to distract Mrs. Bennet at the same time so that she could manage to slip away for a walk. Lydia, having taken a fancy to Mr. George Darcy did not mind doing so at all, in fact she took great pleasure in it.

But Mrs. Bennet was no fool, at least not when it was the matter of an eligible gentleman and one of her daughters, and thus tried to turn Mr. Bennet to her cause, but he made matters worse (for Mrs. Bennet of course), by asking Elizabeth to start archiving his books as soon as Mr. George Darcy and Mr. Bingley arrived everyday.

But avoiding them at home was one thing and at a party was another. Luckily for her there had been only one gathering in the neighbourhood so far after that day, at the Gouldings, and Elizabeth had pleaded a toothache and refused to go. Today as she roamed the woods between Longbourn and Netherfield, everyone had gone to Sir Waversham's manor for a brunch, and coincidentally Elizabeth's tooth had again been hurting. She smiled smugly at her cunning and the remembrance of Mama's thunderous expression as she sat down to read under a tree.

But her mind went again to the reason for which she had excluded herself from all social activity. She still could not believe that someone of Mr. Darcy's social standing could be so exceptionally rude to a lady, but perhaps that probably was the reason. Maybe men of his status thought themselves so much above ordinary country people that they thought it within their rights to insult someone without much thought to that person's feelings. The shock of being addressed as such had left her in no condition to be anything but slightly surprised and a little angered at what had passed between them on the dining table, but as time passed, Elizabeth felt a rage building up inside her.

_'An imprudent decision,' _he had called her. She absently turned a page without registering what was written on it. She failed to understand the cause for his strange reaction to herself for he had not even known her an hour and had already made up his mind as to her being unsuitable for his brother. Either he always came to conclusions really quickly, or he had observed something about her that repulsed him exceedingly.

She sighed and gave up the pretense of reading the book she had brought with her as she got up and started walking towards the pond. How considerate he had seemed, even if slightly aloof, when he was tending to Merlin, and equally heartless when he pronounced her to be unsuitable and mercenary. Why else would he openly imply that the object of most people in this world was to obtain money, obviously he thought that she was trying to attach Mr. George Darcy because he was, undoubtedly, a very rich gentleman.

Elizabeth removed her bonnet and placed it at the foot of the oak along with her book. The branches of this old tree extended above the pond, to one of which hung a swing that the Bennet and Lucas daughters occupied almost daily, at one time or another. Elizabeth expertly placed herself on it without falling into the water, an art acquired after years of practice and started swinging lightly.

She had felt insulted at being pronounced unsuitable, but that feeling was a general one and had nothing to do with Mr. George Darcy, whose flirtatious ways had started to give her disgust lately. Indeed, to be unsuitable for him should be considered a compliment, she smiled and moved the swing with a little more vigour. These brothers might belong to the first circles of the ton, but they certainly could never be what she could like, for one of them lacked sincerity and the other, basic good manners.

How haughtily had Mr. Darcy looked around at all of the guests, never once trying to communicate with Mrs. Bennet, who was his partner for an hour at cards, at least. He obviously thought himself above the current company for Jane had told her that he had hardly spoken a word to anyone at the Goulding's dinner either. She shook her head and commanded herself to stop thinking about the Darcy's, after all what did they mean to her? Elizabeth wondered how long she could keep on avoiding them and…

"Miss Elizabeth?" A deep voice jolted her from her musings and she nearly lost her balance as she looked up to find the very object of them standing in front of her.

"Mr. Darcy," she croaked out as she quickly put her foot on the ground, bringing the swing to an abrupt halt. She got off it as gracefully as she could under his intense stare and smoothed her hands over her white muslin morning dress, "should you not be at the Waversham's brunch?" She asked as she picked up her bonnet and book from the ground in an effort to compose herself.

"As should you," he drawled still not taking his eyes off her, Elizabeth shifted slightly as she tried to tie the ribbons of her bonnet with the book still in her hands, "it seems that both of us had the same objective in avoiding it," he said pointedly as he held out his hand for the book.

"And it also seems," she gave it to him to hold and deftly tied the ribbons up, "that both of us have failed in the said objective," she returned equally and had the pleasure of having seen him disconcerted, even if slightly.

"I have not had the pleasure of seeing you since the dinner at your house," he said in a placid tone and handed the book back to her.

"Indeed," Elizabeth said archly, "it is just the two of us here Mr. Darcy, there certainly is no need to incorporate words such as _'pleasure to meet you,' _into the dialogue when you have made your opinion of me clear on the dinner a week ago."

She watched as he tried to master himself with interest. He might be rich and tall and handsome, but he did not intimidate her. She shall speak plainly just as she was used to in front of everyone. Why should she give him any benefit when he did not extend any courtesy to her?

"Miss Elizabeth," he shifted his weight from one foot to the other, looking ill at ease, "I did not mean, that is to say that I had not intended to insult you the other night."

"And yet you achieved the task regardless," she mocked as she started walking towards Longbourn, "but I am curious," she looked back from her shoulder at his pensive face, "what had you intended?" He looked encouraged and took long strides towards her, being incapable to take short ones, tall as he was.

"Only to stop you from becoming attached to my brother," he said frankly as he fell in step with her, his expression serious, his eyes dark, so dark that they almost looked black.

"Why, if I may ask," she flicked a wayward strand of hair that had come loose from its confines, "though it hardly signifies?"

"It is hard to explain," Mr. Darcy raked his hand through his thick dark hair, shorter than what was usual for the gentlemen currently.

"I can give you a start," she said condescendingly, "is it because I am poor?"

"I would not call you poor," he quickly disagreed.

"Of a lower social standing then," she shrugged her shoulders, "if you insist to sugarcoat it a little, though it is somewhat late to try and be nice."

"Regardless of what adjectives you use Miss Elizabeth," he said firmly as their paces quickened, "your social standing, though not ideal, would not have mattered as much as some other things do."

"And why is my social standing not ideal?" She arched an eyebrow at him as she stopped just in view of Longbourn, "is my father not a landed gentleman just like yours was?" Elizabeth's temper had started to rise with each word that he was saying.

"Of course but…,"

"But the length and breadth of the land matters as well?" She derided as she stopped him in mid-sentence, her expression that of angered amusement.

"Would you let me finish?" He asked haughtily, his own rising anger becoming obvious on his face. Elizabeth stayed quiet and he continued, "where both our fathers are landed gentlemen, you cannot deny the difference between the social status of our mothers." Elizabeth opened her mouth to retort but he held up his hand to silence her and for a moment she feared that he might just clamp it onto her mouth too but that moment passed quickly as his hand fell to his side once again. "But that also would not have mattered if she, your mother, had behaved in a manner worthy of a gentleman's wife."

Elizabeth was stunned, _'this…this…tall oaf was standing in front of her insulting her beloved Mama, who went to so much trouble just to please him,'_ she thought angrily. Well maybe that was the problem, maybe Mrs. Bennet had once again paid him too much attention, but that did not give him the right to be so harsh in his judgment of her.

"In what world does paying attention to your guests not pertain to a ladylike behaviour?" She asked hotly, "or do you have some other malicious conduct to blame my mother with."

"You must have noticed how she was trying to throw one of your sisters **at **me, literally, while we played at cards," he said in a slightly raised voice and colour, "and I for one do not appreciate women being thrust upon me."

Elizabeth blushed for her mother then and knew that he was telling the truth for Mama had not stopped going on and on about how Mr. Darcy took **such **notice of her dear Kitty. She averted her eyes till her mortification ebbed and her ire rose back again.

"And has no one in all of London ever thrown their daughters upon you before Mr. Darcy," she looked and sounded furious just then, "or is it not so offensive when the lady being thrust upon you is an Earl's daughter and not a country gentleman's?"

"It has been done before," he said in a tight voice, "but it has never been approved by me, regardless of the background of such a woman."

"So you think me unsuitable for your brother because of my mother's efforts in trying to secure the good opinion of an eligible bachelor's family?" She warred on even though she believed that Mrs. Bennet's behaviour was nothing short of barefaced, but she was her mother and Elizabeth would defend her.

"She might have been **more** successful if she had paid me** less** attention," he said sarcastically.

"And here you are claiming that you mean no insult," she said indignantly, "when all you have done so far is exactly that."

"I have not said anything demeaning about you I hope," he said without remorse.

"How would you feel if you were judged on the behaviour of Mr. George Darcy?" She spat out now, "I might have been confined to a country society all my life Mr. Darcy, but I do recognize a rogue when I see one and if my mother is no lady then your brother is most certainly no gentleman." Mr. Darcy's face looked like thunder but Elizabeth continued regardless, her tongue and eyes both spitting fire. "You say that you do not mean to insult me, then tell me how you would react if someone were to reject your sister, a most honourable young woman by all accounts, on the basis of something that she never did and had no part or control over, if she were to be slighted because of some scandal that the carelessness of her brother had stirred?"

Mr. Darcy remained quiet, his eyes and complexion both had gone pale under Elizabeth's attack. She breathed deeply now but was determined to speak her mind before her courage failed her.

"Is it really so difficult for a person of your high income and means to understand the plight of a woman with five fully grown daughters of marriageable age but a meager dowry and their father's estate entailed away from the female line?" She saw him start at this and so stopped to catch her breath and cool her temper a bit.

"I would like to clarify, however," she said in a calmer tone now, "that I am not presenting my case to you because I am attached to your brother in anyway. I stand by my words from that night some days ago, and would now like to add to them. I might be poor, ordinary, and not belonging to a set equal to your standing, but I do have integrity Mr. Darcy, and my self-respect alone forbids me to go where I am unwanted. And if you had paid attention to your brother more than you paid my mother, you would have found out that it is only flirtation that he looks for and nothing more. Your brother is safe from me as much by my choice as by his own inclination."

Elizabeth observed his dumbstruck expression for a moment before she turned around on her heel to go back home, feeling relieved yet empty and spent.

* * *

Darcy turned this way and that in his bed at Netherfield Park, but sleep eluded him even though he was quite tired after his journey from town. The dinner at Longbourn had left him quite disturbed, especially the unexpected frankness or pretension of Miss Elizabeth Bennet and the confession of George after that.

_'Could George really be telling the truth?' _He thought as he turned on his right and stared at the fire in the grate. Miss Elizabeth seemed like a most unique young woman, and maybe she really had captured George's invincible heart. Darcy turned on his back as he thought of her eyes as they looked at him from behind the flowers, there was something about her to be sure, something intriguing. He shook his head, a momentary embarrassment engulfing him, she was after all to be the wife of his brother.

He frowned again, this was not an ideal match, but at least it was not a scandal either. George's expensive habits demanded that he marry money, and Miss Elizabeth, he suspected, did not have much. But maybe she could change him, she had after all wreaked such a change in George as to make him fall in love for the first time. Without realizing it fully, Darcy had reconciled with George's choice for a wife, glad that it was going to happen without any outrage to the integrity of the family, something he had lived in fear of as long as George had come of age and shown his true colours.

He regretted his words to her at the dinner table that night and determined to start afresh with her whenever they next met. But to his disappointment and relief, they did not for many days. Bingley and George went to Longbourn everyday and where Bingley came back all smiles, just like Miss Bennet whom he had taken a fancy to, George became more sullen everyday and the reason for that was revealed unwittingly by Bingley one day. He told him casually that he had not seen Miss Elizabeth since the eve of the dinner at Longbourn.

Darcy thought it odd but strangely satisfying as well, maybe Miss Elizabeth will not accept George's suit, thereby forcing him to marry somebody from their own set. Darcy went to another dinner at a local family's house, but though all the members of the Bennet family were in attendance, Miss Elizabeth was missing, because of a terrible toothache Mrs. Bennet told anyone who would listen and even those who did not. She again tried to thrust one of her daughters at him, restoring him to all his initial dislike of her. To make matters worse, Miss Bingley was also becoming rather fervent in her attentions to him. That was part of the reason why he declined to go to the Waversham brunch.

He went out to explore the woods after everybody was gone and came upon a most unexpected but beautiful sight. He spotted a pond from afar and started walking towards it. As he approached he saw a woman on a swing near the pond. She was Miss Elizabeth, looking most fetching with her hair coming loose of the bun, her eyes bright as ever and her cheeks slightly flushed. As their eyes met she quickly, but gracefully got off the swing and picked up her bonnet to tie it up.

While they walked together towards Longbourn, Darcy noticed that whatever she did, it was done with a natural grace, though seemingly unaffected. But soon all thought of her natural grace was replaced with her natural talent at tongue lashing. He had tried though clumsily to gloss over his words from the week previous, but ended up offending her once again. One thing led to another and before he knew how they were standing opposite each other, fighting.

He could not believe that at the age of seven and twenty, this slip of a girl was crossing words with him. But he did acknowledge the truth of her words, unfortunately.

"Miss Elizabeth," Darcy called out as he saw her about to walk away. She turned around and looked at him in question. A stony silence fell between them as the wind picked up speed, ruffling their hair and making Miss Elizabeth's gown swing lightly around her legs. Darcy just stared at her with his deep grey eyes from his height, without letting any emotion show on his face. She seemed quite calm now after emptying herself of all the anger that she must have felt for a week. They stood there for sometime before any of them spoke.

"I apologize if you have been offended by what I said," He said haltingly, proving him to not be in the habit of apologizing often, "I assert again that I did not mean to berate you, only to lessen the brunt of my words at the dinner. I do not know how things got so out of hand." She simply nodded, without saying anything, so he continued, "and you may marry my brother if you so choose, I have no objections to make," he said gravely with only the slightest hint of condescension, knowing full well that despite all her hot words, a proposal from George Darcy could not be met with a denial.

"Indeed,' she looked quite astonished at his latest pronouncement, "Mr. Darcy, you surprise me. What has worked such a change in you in mere moments?"

"Nothing," he replied firmly, "my views and opinions remain unchanged, I have merely come to the conclusion that it is better that he **marry **you than…," _'create a scandal,' _he stopped in mid-sentence, what he was about to say could not very well be said to a lady.

"I might say Mr. Darcy that your arrogance and presumption is a class upon its own," she looked grimly at him. Darcy was startled. He was not arrogant, nor was he presumptuous; this girl truly was too heedless in airing her opinions and had obviously misunderstood his meaning again.

"I am unaware of saying anything that could fall into the category of what you have labeled me with," he said coldly as they stood there staring at each other, one with fire in her eyes the other with steel.

"Then why do you not go home and think upon what you have said to me here today," she mocked, "and then imagine the same things said to you by someone of a higher rank, if such a person exists. I hope that then you shall be able to see why your words were so offensive to me. I bid you adieu Sir, we now have nothing more to say to each other." She turned on her heel once again and almost ran off the rest of the way back to her house as Darcy stared at her from his post.

**A/N: **This chapter was kind of an adaptation of the proposal scene from the original.

A guest reviewer has asked me to stop putting words in 'bold' that I want to emphasize and 'italicize' them instead. The problem is that the font used by this website does not show the words in italics very prominently. I once tried to do it but some reviewers then pointed out that it did not work and I had to put the italicized sentences within comas to make them more noticeable. Italics are barely discernible on a PC and not at all in mobile view, that is why the bold option is used mercilessly by me. Sorry if it is driving you nuts, but it can't be helped.

**Next Chapter: Jane is too Ill to be Moved**


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5: Jane is too Ill to move**

Elizabeth struggled through wet grass and mud puddles to make her way to Netherfield Park. Miss Bingley had invited Jane to have tea with herself and Mrs. Hurst, the day previous. This was excessively pleasing to Mrs. Bennet but not in line with her private schemes for the speedy engagement of Jane and Mr. Bingley. Therefore she had refused Jane the carriage and made her go on horseback so that she would be prevented from coming home that night due to the rain that was threatening to start any moment. Her plan, though highly dependent on Providence, came to fruition. It did begin to rain as soon as Jane was out of sight, thereby making the arrival of the note informing them of her being unable to return due to the cold that she had caught, inevitable, and Mrs. Bennet's happiness complete.

Elizabeth, not as caught up in the scheming of matrimony as Mrs. Bennet supposed, decided to go to Netherfield despite the fact that the carriage, once again, was not to be had. As she jumped another puddle, she felt a moment's discomfort at having to face Mr. Darcy for the first time after their horrible interaction by the pond. His words still rang in her ears as did her own hotly uttered retorts, she truly had lost her temper that day but not without ample provocation.

She picked up her skirts and jumped Netherfield Park's fence instead of coming in by the gates since that would have been too time consuming. As Elizabeth smoothed her pelisse, she took a deep breath almost dreading the upcoming meeting with the occupants of the large house. She took quick measured steps towards the main door, mentally ticking off who could be a nuisance in this short visit and who could not. Mr. Hurst was the first under the list of benign persons, seconded quickly by Mr. Bingley. Mr. George Darcy whom she had met quite frequently once again after that day she had a spat with his brother, though not as cordially as before, but still, a determined flirt though he was, he could not hurt her. Mr. Darcy on the other hand could try to intimidate her by elaborating on how her family and she herself were unsuitable for his oh so worthy brother. Elizabeth clenched her fingers, she would be wary of Mr. Darcy and the Bingley sisters.

Charlotte had come to visit her this morning, just before she was setting out for Netherfield and they had walked together till the turn towards the Lucas Lodge. Her sensible friend had cautioned her against losing her temper with either of the Darcys. Elizabeth had, of course, bemoaned their expected presence at Netherfield along with Mr. Darcy's arrogance, but Charlotte had pushed aside all her excuses, convincing her at last that some slights are better to be ignored till a superior knowledge of the offensive person's behaviour is acquired, for that might show the whole thing from a completely different aspect. And thus, she had come prepared to be offended yet resolved to be indifferent towards most, if not all the occupants of the Netherfield Park.

Elizabeth was taken straight to the breakfast parlour and announced to the assembled party, who were greatly astonished to see her. Her eyes met steely grey ones by the window before they encountered warm blue ones and fell. The gentlemen, except Mr. Hurst, were all quick to mask their surprise at her sudden appearance and got up to bow, which she returned with a curtsey.

"Pray Miss Eliza," said Miss Bingley in a condescending tone, "would you not join us for breakfast?" Elizabeth rightly guessed her to actually mean, _'what on Earth are you doing here so early?'_

"I thank you Miss Bingley," she said calmly without looking in the direction of the gentlemen, for she knew that they must also be eying her as something on display in a menagerie, "but I have come to see my sister and would be much obliged to you if you could direct me to the room that she is occupying at present."

"Indeed Miss Elizabeth," Mr. Bingley jumped up from his seat making her turn in his direction, "I shall take you to Miss Bennet directly. I am sure that she shall be much relieved at seeing you here."

Elizabeth smiled her acquiescence and then observed that Mr. George was staring at her rather fixedly and Mr. Darcy was not sitting at the table at all but staring resolutely outside, as he stood by the window. She shrugged her shoulders before following Mr. Bingley outside the parlour and then upstairs to Jane's room.

"Oh dear, dear Jane," she cried at Jane's distraught state with her eyes surrounded by dark circles and her nose red from the cold, "you do look rather ill," Elizabeth said sitting by her on the bed.

"Indeed Lizzy," she said in a nasal voice, "but I am so glad that you came. I was feeling rather alone and uncomfortable without someone from home."

"I am sure you are being taken care of here much better than you would be at home," Elizabeth smiled warmly at Jane's wan countenance as she started to massage her head with her fingers.

"Just keep doing this till I fall asleep Lizzy," Jane said groggily and Elizabeth settled besides her in a more comfortable position.

As Jane drifted off to sleep, Elizabeth could not help but think upon what had happened between her and Mr. Darcy by the pond. She got up and moved towards the window to take in the gloomy morning outside, exactly like her mood. Mr. Darcy had been arrogant in presuming that she would seek his approval before deciding to marry his brother after the way he had insulted Mrs. Bennet. She did not know what to think of a man who considered his own judgments and opinions to be the dictates of the society and judged others by them as well. Jane stirred in her sleep and Elizabeth quickly made her way back to her, wishing that she would get well soon so that she could get out of Netherfield Park.

In the evening the apothecary's **real **assistant, who was nothing like Mr. Darcy, came to check on Jane. He pronounced her not to be in any real danger but too ill to move. Miss Bingley, who was also present in the room at the time of the examination looked positively shocked at this pronouncement but resigned herself to the fate.

"I am afraid that it is getting late and that I must also start for home," Elizabeth said to Jane when the apothecary left.

"Oh do you really have to, Lizzy?" Jane's blue eyes clouded as she sneezed violently.

"I shall come early tomorrow again, darling," Elizabeth consoled her, though she would much rather have preferred to stay with Jane, but could obviously not make such a decision unless invited to do so. Miss Bingley felt Jane's distress at the thought of the sharp-tongued Miss Eliza leaving and invited her to stay in an off-hand manner, which she accepted quickly to Miss Bingley's chagrin and Jane's satisfaction. Miss Bingley excused herself in order to ask the servant to go to Longbourn to bring their clothes after informing Elizabeth about the time of dinner.

Elizabeth sat near Jane and watched her for as long as she could and then went to freshen herself up before dinner. As she redid her hair, the discomfort of being in the unpleasant company downstairs engulfed her again, but she shook her head and quickly made her way to the door, closing it softly behind her.

"Mr. George," she squeaked, jumping a little as her eyes fell on Mr. George Darcy, standing quite near the door to Jane's room, "w-what are you doing here?"

"I was just going down for dinner," he smiled complacently at her, "and thought to accompany you thither."

"Indeed," Elizabeth felt uncomfortable in the extreme at his presumption and was quite sure that he had been waiting about for her to come out of the room, but maybe that was how it was done in ton, "your timing is perfect," she could not stop the sarcasm from seeping into her voice as they climbed down the stairs, but her companion remained unaffected.

"It is a curse," he quipped and she gave in to a reluctant smile just as Mr. Darcy met them at the foot of the stairs.

"Good evening Miss Elizabeth," he bowed, and asked in a grave tone, "may I ask after the health of Miss Bennet?"

"She is still doing poorly," Elizabeth told him with averted eyes, "but the apothecary says that there is nothing serious about her condition."

"So he is back, then?" Mr. Darcy raised an eyebrow at her as they entered the dining parlour, and she felt her cheeks heat up at the thought of how she had mistook him for the apothecary's assistant.

"No," her colour deepened while her voice lowered, "it is only his assistant."

She did not look at Mr. Darcy to see his reaction to her words and thankfully the Bingleys, already assembled there started questioning her about Jane and she was saved from further conversation with him. Indeed, that he had even talked to her seemed surprising to her, but if a man as proud as Mr. Darcy was prepared to be civil to her, then she could definitely do the same. Miss Bingley had seated her besides Mr. Hurst and opposite Mr. Darcy, which incidentally was far away as possible from Mr. George Darcy. Elizabeth suppressed a smile as she took her seat, _'was the whole of Netherfield Park planning to stop her supposed betrothal to Mr. George Darcy from happening?' _She thought in amusement as she sipped water.

"Do you not take wine, Miss Eliza," Miss Bingley was quick to notice that Elizabeth had stopped the footman from pouring her any, "I have noticed this on other occasions too?"

Elizabeth looked up to find the whole table looking curiously at her except Mr. Darcy, who sat as impassive as ever and drank his own drink instead of taking any notice of hers. She sighed, if only the entire table were as uninterested in her as Mr. Darcy.

"I do not like it," she heard the loud grunt of Mr. Hurst besides her amidst the gasps of the others, "never have and I am sure, never will."

"That is singular, indeed," Mr. Hurst said looking oddly at her.

"Perhaps you have not tasted a wine of finer quality," Miss Bingley was quick to hint that she had only been averse to the drink since her poor family had not been able to provide her with a better variety.

"But then I would have spent my whole life fasting, Miss Bingley," she said mockingly, "for the** finer things **of this world are not to be had here at Hertfordshire."

Mr. Bingley and Mr. George Darcy chuckled as Miss Bingley coloured an indignant red.

"I, for one,thought the wine at the dinner the other day at Longbourn as fine as any I have ever tasted," Bingley said pleasantly to her with a smile.

"As did I," Mr. George Darcy was quick to second him but the strangest and the most heartening remark came from Mr. Darcy and quite flummoxed the whole table.

"My mother, Lady Anne," he said seriously, "did not drink either and I assure you that it was not for the lack of the availability of good quality wine."

Mr. George Darcy smiled, Mr. Bingley stared, Miss Bingley jumped, Mrs. Hurst gulped and Mr. Hurst motioned for the footman to refill his glass.

"You have taken a load off my mind Mr. Darcy," Elizabeth gave him her first real smile of the evening, "I always wondered if perhaps there was something wrong with me." It was Mr. Darcy's turn to stare, which he did to perfection.

The gentlemen returned to the drawing room after indulging in their port to find the Bingley sisters waiting for them at the card table and Miss Elizabeth with a book by the fire. Mr. Hurst and Mr. Darcy quickly joined them at cards whereas Mr. Bingley and Mr. George Darcy seated themselves on the sofa by the window.

Elizabeth who had chosen 'Pandosto: A Triumph of Time' to pass her evening, quickly lost track of what was being said until roused from her occupation by the voice of Miss Bingley.

"All young ladies accomplished," she said in astonishment to Mr. Bingley whose mouth had hung open in the style of a gold fish at her sudden vehemence, "My dear Charles, whatever do you mean?"

"Well he is correct in a way," Mr. George Darcy said with a smile, "any young lady you meet nowadays is described as being quite accomplished in netting purses or some other silliness," he shrugged his shoulders, "I for one cannot understand the use of knowing such a skill."

"Really Mr. George," Mrs. Hurst looked oddly at him, "you shock me. No woman not sufficiently accomplished could truly be accepted by the polite society."

"Not the whole of the polite society, I hope," Elizabeth chimed in with a mischievous smile as she became wholly engrossed by the conversation in the room, "for some of us are not as accomplished as the others."

"In such a day and age as this," Darcy drawled catching the eye of everyone with the unmistakable note of authority in his voice, "the need for women to be **truly **accomplished cannot be neglected."

"And what would you call a **truly **accomplished woman, Mr. Darcy?" Elizabeth asked, the note of impishness still lingering in her voice as she put away her book and her friend's instructions of avoiding arguments with Mr. Darcy.

"Besides being an expert at your usual set of accomplishments like sewing and playing music etc.," Miss Bingley spoke up before Mr. Darcy could, Elizabeth noticed a slight hardening of his eyes, "she must have a certain something in the way she comports herself and carries out a conversation." Miss Bingley batted her lashes shamelessly at Mr. Darcy and Elizabeth suppressed her laugh with difficulty as she caught Mr. George Darcy rolling his eyes.

"But the most important part of a woman's education is reading," Mr. Darcy said firmly as he imitated Elizabeth's actions and put away his cards, to Mr. Hurst's chagrin, "she must indulge in that as much as possible in order to develop her views and opinions."

"And do you know such a paragon?" Elizabeth asked as she looked at him directly with one raised eyebrow.

"He lives with one," Mr. Bingley said happily, "it is his sister."

Elizabeth looked at both Darcy brothers and detected a faint note of pride in their eyes for the said sister, as Miss Bingley fell into a long speech of the various virtues of Miss Darcy.

"Well then perhaps the need to be so accomplished must be greater in some families than in others," Elizabeth shrugged her shoulders aiming to put an end to the debate she had unwittingly started.

"Do you mean that not all women aught to learn the various skills deemed necessary in a society such as ours?" Mr. Darcy looked skeptically at her, the game of cards completely forgotten by both him and Miss Bingley and partially so by Mrs. Hurst Mr. Hurst however, was a different matter altogether and eyed Elizabeth with animosity bordering on downright hate as the culprit of disrupting a game that he had a fair chance of winning.

"A society such as **yours, **perhaps," Elizabeth emphasized one word out of the whole sentence to make a point, "but for the rest of us the requirement of gaining expertise in skills such as you and Miss Bingley mentioned, must be variable."

"Depending upon what, if I may ask?" He seemed astonished in the extreme at being questioned about something he must have believed to be a rule.

"Oh many things," she waved a hand in the air, "like means, income, oppourtunities and of course," here she stopped for added impact as she held his grey eyes that seemed piercing in their intensity, "necessity and inclination." Darcy just stared at her without opening his mouth and Elizabeth felt compelled to continue under his questioning gaze, asking her to explain further.

"How do you mean?" Mr. George Darcy asked in a confused manner and Elizabeth realized that there were in fact, people other than the two of them in the room.

"What I am trying to say is," she took a deep breath and launched into her argument with fervour, "that for a woman such as your sister, learning music must be mandatory because of the rank in society that she enjoys. Not only must she learn playing the pianoforte but also to sing, and a little extra effort on the harp would also do her well. But for a woman of my place in the society, so far removed from the expectations of high position and social order of the ton, simply playing the pianoforte, and not very well at that, shall suffice and enable me to hold the title of an accomplished woman in the small circle of friends that comprise Meryton."

"Just because you know nothing of the ton society **yet** does not mean that you never shall," argued Mr. George Darcy with a special gleam in his eyes that made Elizabeth feel wary, "maybe some day soon you, who think the need to learn such skills a waste of time, shall be required to do just that."

Miss Bingley coughed discreetly as Elizabeth felt the eyes of the whole room on her.

"I very much **doubt the probability** of such an occurrence," she managed to say in as indifferent a tone as possible, "but as I said the requirement of learning such skills is variable, if a change in my situation necessitates the acquiring of them, then I shall do it, but not before that," she finished rather adamantly knowing that just now, her reason must have sounded rather lame.

"But such skills usually are instilled into a person from a very young age," Miss Bingley said derisively, "I doubt if **you** shall be able to acquire them **now**."

"I shall have no need to either," she retorted, now repenting ever having jumped into this unending discussion, "for if the person responsible for the elevation of my rank, knows that I am **not **an accomplished woman and accepts me as such, the opinion of some gossiping ladies of the ton hardly matters."

"You have just proved Miss Elizabeth that," Mr. Darcy said eying her thoughtfully as Miss Bingley fumed in her seat, "in the end it is inclination that matters and nothing else, regardless of means, income, oppourtunity and even necessity and therefore the women who fail to become sufficiently accomplished do so by willful neglect and not by any other factor."

"I never claimed for it to be otherwise," she said firmly, "merely questioned the necessity of excelling thus for everyone."

"Would you rather be unaccomplished and be looked down upon," asked Miss Bingley with a winning smile, "than be the very envy of the society?"

"I would rather be unaccomplished and happy," she returned equally, "than be in the useless pursuit of trying to please a society who does not matter to me at all with my singing and playing of the pianoforte," she looked back at Mr. Darcy, "the pursuit of any talent should be in proportion to the need for it and not at the cost of unnecessary strain on one's mind and privacy."

Mr. Darcy looked taken aback for a moment before he regained his faculties and continued the argument, thus disappointing Elizabeth's hopes of having ended it effectively.

"So you think the requirement for young girls of marriageable age to be sufficiently talented, an unnecessary breach of privacy," he said with a sardonic expression, "rather than something that shall make them eligible in the eyes of the society that you consider so unnecessary to your existence?"

"No indeed," she said with a hint of mischief in her voice, "young ladies should do as they themselves or their families think appropriate, but I for one do not live my life in a constant aspiration of perfection in order to look eligible in the eyes of a society that shall deem me to be **unsuitable **regardless of what my accomplishments are." She looked pointedly at him in the end of her statement, hinting at their heated conversation some days ago near Longbourn, after all he had rejected her without knowing what her talents might have been. Mr. Darcy had the grace to blush but not to stop arguing.

"But not all accomplishments are gained in order to satisfy the society at large," he bit back in his typical dry manner, "have you never played sometimes just to entertain your own family or taken up a book to please only yourself?"

"Yes," she said reluctantly, acknowledging the truth of his words, "of course one does that too. My arguments were only with reference to the expectations of people unconnected to us, not our family or ourselves," she looked up to find him observing her with a slight confusion on his face.

"So you concede?" He asked with assurance after a moment.

"No," she smiled a perfect smile as she got up from her place by the fire, "I merely agree and that too to the last piece of your argument only. And I shall beg to be excused for I shall like to retire now."

"Oh," Miss Bingley looked much relieved, "I hope the maid has shown you your room?"

"She asked me to see it," Elizabeth said moving towards the door, "but truly Miss Bingley, I shall be most comfortable in Jane's room, where I can check upon her through the night. Therefore I asked your maid to bring my things there. I hope it is all right with you."

"Of course, Miss Elizabeth," Bingley spoke up before his sister could, "whatever pleases you."

Elizabeth smiled and turned towards the rest of the occupants of the room. To her amusement, a different set of emotions were displayed on everyone's face. Mr. Hurst and Miss Bingley both looked relieved, the former because now that she was leaving everyone would pay attention to the game and the latter because she did not like the glint of warmth in Mr. Darcy's cold eyes one bit. Mrs. Hurst looked indifferent without and Mr. Bingley with a smile and Mr. Darcy looked slightly confused where his brother looked thoroughly disappointed.

Elizabeth curtseyed, and ran up the stairs, giving in to a deep and tired sleep after ascertaining that Jane's fever had ebbed somewhat.

* * *

Darcy gulped the hot dark liquid called tea and enjoyed the feeling as it burned down his throat. The sun had come out at last and having breakfast alone was one of the few things that he enjoyed at Hertfordshire. Not that he had not enjoyed the argument on _'accomplishments' _with the insolent Miss Elizabeth yesterday after dinner. _'Yes,' _he thought in wry amusement, _'having breakfast alone and sparring wits with Miss Elizabeth were the few things he enjoyed at Hertfordshire.'_

He took up another muffin and buttered it rather more liberally than was usual for him, in a better mood than he had been in of late, after all nothing lightens up your spirits more than a healthy argument from which neither party takes any offense. He frowned slightly, not sure if she had taken offense or not, she certainly seemed unscathed and he had also, for a change refrained from getting personal.

It was an awful moment in his life when Miss Elizabeth had told him to put himself in her shoes and then imagine how she must have felt. He washed the muffin down with the last sip of his tea and got up to take a walk about the grounds. He had tried to defend himself on the grounds that not even Prince Regent could find any fault in his behaviour but could not get away from the nagging feeling that an injustice had been committed by him in coming to a decision too soon where she was concerned.

He took quick steps in the direction of the fountain at the side of the house as he dwelled further on her merited reproach that, _**'How would you feel if you were judged on the behaviour of Mr. George Darcy?' **_Indeed he would feel insulted to say the least, at being judged by the manners of a family member that he had neither any control nor any authority over. And worst still was her assertion that it would indeed be a shame if Georgiana were to be rejected as a result of the uncouth behaviour of George. Even though Darcy had been wary of George's habits and had always tried to prevent him from tarnishing the family name by them, he had never actually thought that there was, barring a scandal, anything else he could do to hurt Georgiana's prospects. But it appeared to him now that he had been wrong.

She had called him arrogant and presumptuous, allegations that he had not thought himself capable of, but as he pondered upon his words from that day by the pond, they did seem to indicate that he had been somewhat presumptuous if not completely arrogant. Darcy tossed a small stone in the fountain and watched the water ripple before it became static once again, just like Miss Elizabeth's words had created a swell in his mind, but unlike the algae green water of the fountain, it had not stilled yet. Before he had met her he had gone through life thinking himself correct in all his beliefs, but for the first time in his existence, he had come not only to doubt his motives, but also to rethink his opinions, and all because of the woman his scoundrel of a brother had chosen as his life partner.

She was intelligent and humourous though a little too opinionated, but would do much good to Georgiana, and might just bring her out of her shell. He had certainly abandoned his previous impression of Miss Elizabeth making a play at George for his money when she obviously seemed so disinterested in him. A twig snapped somewhere making Darcy come out of his musings. He quickly turned around and saw the very object of his meditations trying to escape his notice by tiptoeing away from the fountain. His lips twitched but the rare smile still did not make an appearance.

"Miss Elizabeth," he called out and had the smug satisfaction of seeing her blush at getting caught in the act to trying to escape.

"Mr. Darcy," she smiled weakly as she halted in her backward step, "I did not mean to intrude sir."

"You do not," he said firmly, "I believe you also had the notion of surveying this fountain."

"Yes indeed," she walked towards him and stopped near the fountain, Darcy felt a whiff of orange blossom, the very one that his mother used to wear, "ugly old thing is it not?" She looked slightly nervous at being alone with him again.

"Yes," he nodded as he stared at the green insides of the base and walls around it. It was undoubtedly old, but whether it had always been ugly, was subject to some debate. He held his tongue though, debating with Miss Elizabeth all the time was probably not a very good idea.

"On second thoughts however," she squinted at the fountain in a manner of a connoisseur, "not as ugly as it is old."

"Indeed," Darcy's lips twitched again. At last they were of the same opinion on something, but not to her knowledge.

"You seem in an unusually agreeable mood this morning Mr. Darcy," her impish smile was again in view as she looked at him with some interest, "are you not going to debate the ugliness or the age of this fountain with me?

"No Miss Elizabeth," he replied smoothly "for we are in accordance about this. I was actually thinking the same thing that you just uttered."

"And yet you did not say it," she argued.

"I did not want to argue," he replied gallantly.

"So out of the two of us,** I** am the argumentative one?" She raised an eyebrow at him.

"There can be no argument about that," he said dryly. She stared at him for a moment before giving in to a soft chuckle.

"How is Miss Bennet now?" He asked after a few moments of silence.

"The fever has broken," she told him, "but she still feels weak. I hope we shall be able to go back home in a couple of days."

"Is this 'Pandosto'?" He asked looking at the book in her hand and motioned for them to start a walk.

"Yes," she said and a light blush spread on her cheeks for some reason, "I started it last night but then…ahem…could not finish it."

"I would have thought you more interested in 'The Winter's Tale', by the Bard," he looked curiously at her, "a lighter version."

"I wonder what gave you the impression of me being a non-serious person, Mr. Darcy," she looked up and he could see the spark in her eyes again, "I do read tragedies as well."

"Yes, of course," he said politely, "but 'Pandosto' is a heavy read, to be sure."

"That it is," she looked at him with a slight softening of her eyes that seemed almost orange in the sunlight, "and I do own that I liked 'The Winter's Tale' better."

"Are you much interested in books?" He asked conversationally as an attempt to know his future sister-in-law better.

"It is my only passion besides walking," she looked up at him and smiled a disarming smile, Darcy stumbled, he certainly could not look at her as a sister, yet. Miss Elizabeth quickly grabbed his arm to save him from falling.

"Are you all right?" She asked in a tone laced with concern. Darcy nodded but could not stop a slight colour from rising into his cheeks, _'damn woman,'_ he thought in embarrassment, _'she must give fair warning before showing her teeth in public.' _She withdrew her hand from his arm and they again fell into step as the path wound towards the front of the house.

"So you see," she said looking ahead towards the house, "I do have one accomplishment; if not as many as you and Miss Bingley think necessary." Darcy detected a note of derision in her voice and a hint of a smile on her lips, to his relief, no teeth were visible this time.

"You would find Miss Elizabeth," he followed her example and stared ahead as he spoke, "that there is a vast difference between Miss Bingley's and my views on the matter of accomplishments."

"Do you mean to say that your list is perhaps longer, even than hers?" She turned towards him in mock surprise.

"Not longer," he replied, "but different as far as the object of a certain talent is concerned."

"It did not seem that way yesterday," she said playfully as she looked up at him again. Darcy could not help but notice that she looked quite well in her white morning gown.

"Things are not always as they seem," he said in a wry manner as they approached the house, "I have learnt, to my cost, that one must not be quick to judge."

"Fine words, indeed," he detected a hint of bitterness still lingering in her voice, "do you practice them as well?"

"I try to make an effort," he replied firmly. He knew in his heart that he had been wrong to judge her so quickly, but could not very well reveal that to her in as many words, admitting a mistake not being one of his many qualities.

"Then you should try harder," she said averting her eyes, "a lot of people believe that the first impression is the last impression."

"I, on the contrary, believe that only the last impression is the last impression," he said and held the door open for her.

"Once again Mr. Darcy," she entered and he shut the door behind them, "we are in accordance."

"There must be something in the tea we had," he mocked and her laugh tinkered through the front parlour before she excused herself to go and check upon her sister. Darcy was oddly fascinated, against his will, **of course.**

* * *

George watched in a sullen silence as Darcy and Miss Elizabeth walked towards the house from the fountain. They seemed to be talking earnestly about something and he did not like it one bit. Ever since the dinner at Longbourn, where Miss Elizabeth sat with Darcy, she had been steadfastly avoiding him.

At first he did not understand it, but some subtle questions asked at the right moments put him in mind of the fact that Darcy must have said or done something at the dinner to make her wary of both of them. For it was not just him that she was avoiding, she obviously had no love lost for old Darcy either.

Suddenly Darcy stumbled and Miss Elizabeth quickly caught his arm and saved him from a fall. George cursed. He had really enjoyed how Miss Elizabeth had put Darcy in his place as he went on and on about how important it was for a woman to be accomplished, supported fully by his ever faithful Miss Bingley. That little debate of theirs had made it abundantly clear that Darcy and Miss Elizabeth were quite averse to one another's company, and this morning it was as though the argument from yesterday and the mysterious interaction between the two of them from the dinner at Longbourn, had never happened.

He had spent the night plotting and scheming of how to have a moment alone with Miss…_'oh damn it,' _he thought in irritation, _'hang Miss, she is Elizabeth.' _After all thinking of taking liberties with her on one hand and on the other thinking of her as Miss Elizabeth was rather hypocritical. George had been trying to hatch a plan to get her alone in some secluded corner of the house and see if his charms could work on her, and here she was walking all over the place with none other than the very brother whose presence had proven to be a thorn in his side as far as Elizabeth was concerned.

Elizabeth's laughter floated up to the terrace where he stood and his determination of enjoying some little part of her passionate nature increased many fold. If only Darcy was not such a prude and would leave today. He sighed, and walked back inside to change and then go down for breakfast.

**A/N: **The debate on accomplishments is an adaptation from the original (as if you could not tell).

I would like to put the minds of everyone at ease by revealing that Elizabeth will not be compromised during Jane's illness. Her stay at Netherfield is only going to be a build-up to that moment. Also, please rest assured that whenever it happens, her virtue will remain intact (this is a hillarious statement but I don't know how else to say it in a 'regency' style).

Thank you so much for your wonderful reviews and your consideration in pointing out the mistakes.

**Next Chapter: Eavesdroppers Never Hear any Good of Themselves-I**


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6: Eavesdroppers Never Hear Any Good of Themselves-I**

Elizabeth watched Jane sip her broth since she had adamantly insisted on doing so herself. She had just come back from a walk out with Mr. Darcy in which, surprisingly neither of them had tried to rip each other's throats out. She smiled, in fact he had been quite pleasant in his manner towards her, even if a little wry and distant. But that was probably his way, he did seem like a frightfully reserved person, along with being proud and arrogant, though these qualities had not resurfaced after their initial spat. _'Well,' _she sighed, _'at least he does not try to shamelessly flirt with me or compliment me at every turn, like his brother.'_

"How are you passing your time, Lizzy," Jane asked her after a rather large swallow, "I know that you do not care particularly for the company of anyone here, but I dare say that they have been amiable enough so as not to make your stay as uncomfortable as you might have supposed."

"Oh do not worry on my account, dearest," Elizabeth smiled at her kindhearted sister, "everyone has been very hospitable, especially your Mr. Bingley."

"He is not my Mr. Bingley Lizzy," Jane's large blue eyes expanded to comic proportions, making Elizabeth giggle.

"Well then he shall be soon enough," she dimpled as she took the empty bowl from Jane's hand and placed it on the side table.

"Now you sound like Mama," Jane smiled and slipped down the covers and then asked, "no more fights with Mr. Darcy I hope?"

"Just a general argument last night after dinner," Elizabeth's eyes shone with mischief, "nothing too serious I assure you, or at least not compared to what happened by the pond."

"I am sure he did not mean anything serious by what he said that day," Jane consoled her.

"You mean besides putting me in my place for aspiring for someone much higher than my station in the world," she mocked, "and having a mother who throws her daughters at eligible bachelors? No I am sure he did not mean anything serious at all."

"He did give you his consent to marry Mr. George Darcy in the end, Lizzy," Jane reasoned in a hoarse voice.

"Oh yes," Elizabeth smiled sardonically at the memory of his haughty manner, "and what would have I done without it."

"Do be serious Lizzy," Jane admonished.

"My dearest Jane," she moved her fingers lightly in Jane's hair, "you know better than anyone else that I do not, nay, cannot think of Mr. George Darcy in a favourable light, he is too sure of himself and flirts rather too easily for that."

"Surely, he is not all bad," Jane said softly, "I have not noticed him being quite as bad as you say, darling."

"When do you ever?" Elizabeth sighed in exasperation, "now enough of men, what say you of books, should I read to you?"

Jane nodded and closed her eyes. Elizabeth read to her diligently for an hour and then after noticing that she had dozed off, got up and went to the window seat with her own book, in order to finish it up before they left Netherfield, she did not want to borrow it afterwards.

As the lunch hour drew near, Elizabeth tidied herself up and told a pale looking Jane that she should be back as soon as the lunch was over. Jane smiled faintly and sneezed as Elizabeth shut the door behind her and climbed down the stairs with a quick step. The house was slightly confusing in its dimensions and Elizabeth would not have been able to find the dining parlour if a maid had not directed her to it. Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst were already seated and smiled reluctantly as she approached and took her appointed seat.

"How is dear Jane?" Asked Miss Bingley in a condescending tone.

"Better than yesterday but not completely recovered yet," Elizabeth gave a concise answer and then fell silent, not wanting to talk to the unpleasant ladies who were always looking to offend.

"How unfortunate," Mrs. Hurst murmured and both sisters smiled slyly at each other.

Elizabeth remained purposefully quiet until the gentlemen came and then they all proceeded with lunch. She herself had hardly any appetite due to lack of exercise and therefore ate very little, and marveled at the quantities the gentlemen consumed.

"How did you like the fountain Miss Elizabeth?" Mr. Bingley asked by way of conversation, "I saw you inspecting it from my room this morning."

"It was," she stopped to look for a word that would not offend the owner of the said fountain, "interesting." Her eyes met the deep grey ones of Mr. Darcy and she saw a slight amusement flickering there.

"I think it is positively horrid," Miss Bingley said with an all important air, "you ought to have it removed, Charles."

"Would that not be a bit extreme?" Mr. Bingley asked, slightly perplexed, "besides, I think it is charming and Miss Bennet agrees." The sour expression on Miss Bingley's face made Elizabeth pick up her glass and take a quick sip to hide her smile.

"And how does she, Miss Elizabeth?" Asked Mr. George.

"Better than yesterday, but she still feels quite weak," Elizabeth told him.

"I am sure she does," Miss Bingley said sarcastically and Elizabeth found herself wishing fervently for Jane's speedy recovery so that they could go back to Longbourn.

"I hope she shall be fully recovered soon," Mr. Bingley said pleasantly after swallowing a rather large bite of the fish they were having, "for I intend to give a ball here at Netherfield by the end of the next week."

"Indeed Charles you cannot be serious about it," Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst both cried out in unison as Mr. Hurst had his glass of wine filled up for the third time.

"I am and I assure you that I have put all the necessary arrangements into motion already," Mr. Bingley seemed quite pleased with himself just then.

"I think it a splendid idea," Mr. George beamed, "my time here has been well nigh perfect except for the lack of a ball. And now that you are going to have one, I am sure that I have never had such a pleasant time in all of my life before."

Elizabeth again hid her smile, but this time behind a napkin, Mr. George Darcy almost sounded like Lydia.

"Nor have I," Mr. Bingley seconded him eagerly, "indeed it was Miss Lydia who put this idea into my head, otherwise I might not have thought of it myself."

As the conversation went on around her, Elizabeth found herself slightly embarrassed at the memory of the morning when Mr. Bingley and Mr. George Darcy had been paying a visit to Longbourn. Lydia had stressed most eagerly, that a ball should be had at Netherfield and Mrs. Bennet had supported her as if she herself was a girl of sixteen, with Kitty's ill timed cough interspersed here and there. That was the major reason that Elizabeth had written a note to Mrs. Bennet the night previous, when Miss Bingley had sent for her clothes, not come and visit as it was not required **at all. **She had become quite conscious of the brazen behaviour of some of her family members after Mr. Darcy pointed out the lack of propriety in their manner. Even though she had defended them most vehemently to him, it did not mean that she was unaware of the justice of his words, no matter how rude and uncalled for they were.

She raised her eyes to find that the Bingley siblings and Mr. George Darcy were enthusiastically discussing the details of the ball, with Mr. George Darcy in the favour of a masquerade and Miss Bingley opposing it on the grounds that the Hertfordshire society was too unsophisticated to enjoy such a thing. Elizabeth sighed and took one last sip of water before she excused herself to go back to Jane. As she got up from the table she found Mr. Darcy looking curiously at her, she shrugged her shoulders and made her way out of the dining parlour and up to the room.

Jane had again caught a fever, though not too high, but she still looked wan. Elizabeth saw to her lunch and medicine and then laid down for a rest herself. As the sky darkened outside, she got quickly dressed after confirming that Jane was indeed much better. She thought of the ball and felt pleased as she pinned up the few wayward tresses that had come out of her bun, it would be enjoyable to say the least.

She smiled at her reflection and made her way out of the room and towards the stairs colliding headlong with Mr. Darcy who was coming up. She could not believe how heightened her senses became as she took in his height, his strength and his smell. As soon as she recovered from the impact, she quickly went down and that was when she lost all sense of direction. She had once again forgotten where the dining parlour was.

Elizabeth walked on towards a room from where voices were emanating but stopped when she heard the word _'Bennet'_. As she came within ear shot, a horrible shock hit her at what she heard, so that she felt both numbing astonishment and burning rage by turns. As the conversation went on inside the room, Elizabeth's horror increased manifold till she could not take it anymore and ran back up the way that she had come, with her hand clasped to her mouth, disgust boiling her blood.

* * *

George whistled as he struck the balls with his cue stick in the billiard room at Netherfield Park and then observed them spreading around the table. There was going to be a ball and Elizabeth shall be there and he would dance with her, and probably do a little if not a lot more than just dance as well. Sending him to Hertfordshire was the best notion William had had in a along time, who could have suspected that he would encounter such a lively specimen of the species called women here. _'By God,' _he thought as Hurst took his turn at the table, _'she is enchanting.'_

"I would have thought you to quit Hertfordshire within the week of your arrival," Hurst said, surprisingly without slurring, "I fail to see what you are still doing here."

"Do you not, eh Hurst?" George aimed at a ball, "then you do not have the eye for which I gave you credit for."

"Oh the Bennet girls are all right, I grant you," he shrugged his heavy set shoulders as he rubbed the top of his stick with chalk, "but not your type I should say."

"Do you know this is almost what William said as well," George took aim and then struck, watching with satisfaction as the ball made its way to the hole, "I believe his exact words were that, _'I would not have thought Miss Elizabeth handsome enough to tempt you.' _" George imitated his brother's manner of talking admirably.

"He did, did he? And was right too, I mean," Hurst took his turn at the table and then went away to make a drink for himself, "Miss Elizabeth is not exactly handsome though she is exotic in a way, and Miss Bennet is a beauty to be sure, but too sedate for a man of your tastes."

"Oh she is safe from me," George said pleasantly, "I have no interest whatsoever in her. She is more likely to become your sister by the way Bingley revolves around her."

"Quite possibly," he said as he took a large gulp, "but what is keeping **you** here?"

"Can you not guess?" George's eyes shown with mirth as he watched Hurst trying to work his rustic brain.

"Miss Elizabeth?" He asked quickly. _'Well,' _thought George in amusement, _'not so rustic after all.' _"She is feisty," George nodded as the thought of Elizabeth warmed him, "not traditionally handsome though," Hurst argued.

"No," George agreed once again, "but she is an enchanting creature. Never have I seen a woman more alluring, yet with such a natural grace, but it is her way, her manner of impertinence that draws me to her."

"Indeed," Hurst smiled knowingly, "she does have allure I grant you. Even I, asleep or drunk that I am most of the time, have noticed it, in full force at times."

"Yes," George said a little annoyed at Hurst having noticed her charms as well , when he had meant her to be only his, "but you cannot have her dear boy," he said sardonically.

"Neither can you," he returned in the same vein as he took another sip of his drink, "unless you plan on marrying her."

"Humbug," George sneered, "I do not need to marry a girl in order to have her and you know that Hurst."

"In town perhaps," Hurst shrugged his shoulders again as he took the final sip from his glass and got up, "but these country chits are different. They want surety before they are willing to take the final leap. Know what I mean," he winked at the end, infuriating George some more.

"Women are the same everywhere," he said forcefully as he hit the ball with a vengeance, "and Miss Elizabeth is no different, she just needs a little time to adjust to the idea, once she discovers the passions of the flesh, she would be doing my bidding I assure you."

"She might be passion incarnate, Darcy," Hurst called him by his family name in the absence of William, "but she is not easy, that I can **assure you."**

"Then I shall just have to work a little harder than I normally do, with the ladies of the ton that is," George said nonchalantly, "and since she is staying here in this house, it would not be too difficult to get her alone in a corner and have my way with her," he then smile devilishly as Hurst conceded his defeat in the game and in the debate on how easy or difficult it would be to compromise Elizabeth.

"But do be ware," Hurst warned him after a silence of a few minutes while they readjusted the balls on the table, "these country folk take the matter of **compromise **rather seriously. Her father might call you out on anything illicit that might occur."

**"If** he finds out," George said complacently, "I am quite experienced in matters of the heart and body Hurst. Miss Elizabeth's father shall not find out, and even if he does, clever woman that she is, she would know how to distract him with her pretty lies."

"And what lies would those be, George?" A hard, cold voice spoke up from the door and George jumped. _'Damn William,' _he turned around to see Darcy eyeing him with suppressed ire, the signs of which were visible in his every feature, _'why does he have to know all my dirty secrets?'_

* * *

Darcy went out for a ride with Bingley and enjoyed it so much that they lost track of time. He was sure that he shall be late for dinner as he ran up the stairs and collided headlong with someone as soon as he stepped on the landing.

"Ah," it was Miss Elizabeth.

"I beg your pardon Miss Elizabeth," a red faced Darcy held her by her arms to steady her, "I was in a bit of a hurry and did not see you coming."

"It is all right," she rubbed her forehead, "I think I have hurt myself with something on your coat." She said as she tried to pull away, but then jerked back towards him, he saw her face become flushed as both of them observed that her hair had gotten entangled in his coat pin.

"Hold still Miss Elizabeth," he said firmly as his hands left her arms to travel up to her hair. She smelled wonderful, like orange blossoms, like Mama had smelled, like home. Darcy quickly extracted her hair from his coat pin and she stepped away, which was just as well, for he certainly was not ready for what he had felt in those few moments.

"I thank you for your assistance Mr. Darcy," she said with still averted eyes and swiftly ran down the stairs as he stood there watching.

Then he sighed and went towards his room. There was no time to take a bath or think of George and his intriguing ladylove, therefore Darcy changed for dinner after a quick wash and was about to step down on the first stair when once again he encountered Miss Elizabeth, this time coming up in quite a hurry with her hand pressed to her mouth.

"Are you all right, Miss Elizabeth," he asked in concern as she passed him, without even noticing that he was there.

"I…I," she hesitated for a moment and then turned around looking pale and slightly distraught, "I suppose I too am coming down with the cold therefore I had better stay in the room," she said in an agitated manner and then quickly turned around and walked away.

Darcy shrugged his shoulders and stepped down the stairs. The foot man informed him that the gentlemen were in the billiards room so he walked towards it.

"…country folk take the matter of _**compromise **_rather seriously. Her father might call you out on anything illicit that might occur." Hurst's voice wafted out the slightly ajar door. _'What is he talking about and who else is inside with Hurst?' _Darcy thought with a frown.

**"If** he finds out," George said complacently, "I am quite experienced in matters of the heart and body Hurst. Miss Elizabeth's father shall not find out, and even if he does, clever woman that she is, she would know how to distract him with her pretty lies."

"And what lies would those be, George?" Darcy after staying in shock for a moment, quickly recovered and asked in a cold voice. The obvious alarm, mingled with annoyance on George's face made it clear that he had not intended for him to hear any part of his plan or intentions. Darcy could not believe that George had duped him yet again. Here he was thinking that perhaps this time George really was sincere in his attachment to a lady, yet it was nothing but a ploy to get into her bed and the speech that he had delivered on the day Darcy had arrived from town was nothing but an act to stop him from discovering his true motive.

"Your brother here thinks he shall be able to lure Miss Elizabeth into his bedroom before he leaves Hertfordshire," Hurst said pleasantly without registering the dismay on George's face, "and I was only enlightening him on the drawbacks of such a scheme."

"Well I never," came the voice of Bingley from the door just as he came freshly bathed and suited, "how dare you try to make such reprehensible designs on a woman who is staying in my house, and essentially under my protection?" He looked like thunder, and Darcy felt proud of his friend in that instant, for his reaction only proved what a worthy man he was.

"I cannot believe that you would try to deceive me by leading me on to believe that you had honest intentions towards Miss Elizabeth but all the while were entertaining hopes of compromising her virtue," Darcy's anger steadily rose but his voice remained cold and hard.

He watched as colour rose into George's face. He was clearly going through a struggle inside his mind and, Darcy was sure, would not open his mouth until he was calm enough, or maybe until he had thought of the new lie that he was going to deceive them with. Darcy clenched his fists as he wondered where the amoral streak had come from in George's character, when Darcys were all such principled and honourable folk.

"I was only showing off for God's sake," he said at last with quite a convincing expression of martyrdom on his face, "do not try to make a mountain out of a mole's hill."

"You have successfully been able to make a royal fool of me about this whole business with the lady in question," Darcy's voice sounded like a whip in the eerily quiet room, "but that ends right now, George. Do not try to feed me any more lies."

"It is not a lie," George cried, "we were only in jest. Damn you Hurst, can you not take a joke man?"

"I can when one is there to be taken," Hurst laughed and his belly jiggled, "but if ever a man was in earnest, you were it, old chap."

"Miss Elizabeth is from a very respectable family," Bingley looked angrily at the younger Darcy, "and needs to be treated as such. I cannot believe that you would even dream of getting away with such a horrific act in the country."

"I have not done anything yet now have I," George said in exasperation, "let me breathe a little, will you?"

"Time and again you have proven yourself to be unworthy of my trust," Darcy said in hard accents, "you shall breathe all you like brother, but only when we are away from this place and the poor woman is safe from your obnoxious designs."

"What," George's eyes widened, "you cannot meant it?"

"I never say things that I do not mean," Darcy's tone was unrelenting, "I shall not have another woman disrespected by you under my watch, and therefore we shall leave at first light. I have had enough of your infantile and unscrupulous behavior, it ends **now."**

George's face became clouded, but Darcy could still not detect any sign of shame or remorse on it. _'What kind of a monster had his brother become?' _He thought in frustrated amazement. It would be better to take him away from Hertfordshire before he ruined the life of Miss Elizabeth and her family, along with the Darcy name and Georgiana's future prospects.

"Darcy, my man," Bingley cried in horror, "you cannot leave without attending the ball. Stay the week and then I would not press you to stay any longer."

"No," he said resolutely, "it had better be now, for I cannot trust him to control his whims any more." Darcy looked at George's unrepentant countenance with annoyed sorrow. _'If only he had shown some remorse at his conduct,' _he thought gravely, _'I might have had some hope for his future.'_

"Come Darcy," Hurst grunted from his perch by the drinks table, "it is not as though he has done something. A man is entitled to voice his opinion once in a while, no matter how sordid, and we had been drinking, you see." He raised the glass in his hand and Darcy wanted to smash the same glass on the floor into a million pieces.

"I cannot take this as lightly as you, Hurst," his voice was tinged with bitter sarcasm, "I have things other than what to eat, and how much to drink, on my mind."

"We know and appreciate that Darcy," Bingley tried to pacify him as he stepped closer to where Darcy stood, "but going back is somewhat extreme do you not think? We shall all be here to reason with George, come man, do stay till the ball."

Darcy looked up and saw a brief flicker of embarrassment on George's face. He sighed and nodded as the dinner gong sounded. They filed out of the room to go towards the dining room. Miss Elizabeth was not there and Miss Bingley explained that she had caught a sudden headache and was going to have dinner with her sister. The gentlemen silently thanked God for it, for after the discussion that had taken place in the billiards room, none of them was composed enough to encounter her.

Darcy excused himself as quickly as possible after dinner and went to his room to lament ever sending George to Hertfordshire. George's callous disregard for a proper and honourable behaviour was bearing down on him. He paced the length of the room as he recalled George's words about Miss Elizabeth, was nothing sacred to him, did no woman deserve to be respected?

Miss Elizabeth had made a very pertinent query when she had asked him how he would feel if someone judged him or his sister based on the behaviour of their brother. God forbid if some day Georgiana was to come across a scoundrel such as George, if she were to fall in love with a man who only thought of taking advantage of her, Darcy trembled at the idea. _'Dear sweet Gina,'_ he thought determinedly, _'I shall protect her from any harm that might come her way, even if it is from her own brother.'_

He tiredly slipped under the covers after changing into his night attire. He must keep an eye on George, and he must stop him from ruining anyone's life. Even after three weeks in Hertfordshire, it seemed as though he was standing right where he was when he had listened to Georgiana as she had read Miss Bingley's letter to him. George had pulled wool over his eyes quite successfully so far, but now he would be doubly cautious, for George himself, for Georgiana and also for Miss Elizabeth.

* * *

**A/N: **In case there is some confusion as to what Elizabeth heard, it would be clarified in the next chapter, but only to relieve you of any (unintended) suspense; Elizabeth overhears everything from "Bennet girls are all right..." up to "...have my way with her."

**Next Chapter: Out in the Open**


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7: Out in the Open**

Elizabeth paced the room as the night wore on. She had decided not to go to the dinning room after all, for she been in no state to appear in front of a room full of arrogant and complacent people. God alone knew how great an effort it took for her to comport herself with some semblance of calm in front of Jane. But as soon as she heard Jane snoring softly, she was out of her bed, trying to dig a hole in the wooden floor of the guest room at Netherfield Park.

_**'I do not need to marry a girl in order to have her',**_a nonchalant voice laughed near her and she almost jumped as she halted by the window and gripped the curtain tightly.

_'The cad,' _she thought angrily, _'the wicked__, nasty scoundrel.' _Elizabeth trembled with impotent rage. She had, unfortunately disregarded the old saying that **eavesdroppers never hear any good of themselves, **and gave in to her innate curiosity after she heard the words 'Bennet girls' mentioned. She had heard all that had passed between Mr. Hurst and Mr. George Darcy, or at least as much as she could take.

Their callous disregard for the norms of the society, for the respectability of others and for the common decency that is a human being's duty to show another, repulsed her so much that she could hardly bear to stand there anymore after she heard Mr. George Darcy's words. _'No,' _she thought in a blind fury as she turned away from the window and started pacing the room once again, _'he does not deserve to be addressed as a Mr., for he is no gentleman.'_

She wrung her hands together as George Darcy's words assaulted her brain from all sides. _'The nerve of that man,'_ she thought in angered shock, _'the unbelievable insolence.' _After almost three hours, she still found it hard to believe that George Darcy was so devoid of even the minutest of integrity. And even though she had, in a fit of temper, told Mr. Darcy that _**'your brother is no gentleman' **_she still had not believed it herself, for why else would she be so shocked?

George Darcy, on many occasions, had tried to flirt with her, but never had she noticed **such** a lack of good principles in him. He had never even tried to touch her, for that matter, nor to get too close to her. But she knew now that all his good manners and agreeable behaviour was only a mask for what he truly was, a womanizer and a libertine. She had heard of such men, who only believed in defiling the women and never became truly attached to one, but never had she thought of encountering one, let alone being the object of any interest to such a malevolent person. Even the thought of exciting such repulsing emotions in a man was mortifying to her.

_'How dare he?' _Elizabeth seethed with unspent ire. She was a respectable woman who though pleasant mannered in general, had never displayed signs of over familiarity towards any gentleman of her acquaintance. She racked her brain but could not come up with any instance where her behaviour or words could have encouraged George Darcy to form such disgraceful designs on her, and yet he had sounded so sure of her response for whenever he approached her. Her cheeks flamed as she recalled his words,

**"…it would not be too difficult to get her alone in a corner and have my way with her****."**

Though Elizabeth was a maiden and did not know what _'having his way with her' _meant, she was nineteen years old and was aware that it could not mean anything respectable. She felt tired all of a sudden and slowly slipped under the covers, so as not to wake Jane. She decided that she could not stay in this house with that vile man lurking around anymore, and therefore shall go back home on the morrow, Mary could come and take her place instead, or perhaps Jane shall be recovered enough in the morning to make the short journey back home.

Elizabeth sighed and blew out the candle on the night stand by the bed, but her mind was too agitated to rest just yet. _'Passions of the flesh, indeed,' _she seethed, as she turned on her back, _'insufferable.' _And his brother had the gall to tell **her** that she was unsuitable for George Darcy. Elizabeth sat up as a thought struck her.

**"…to stop him from any impudent decision that he might make in haste."**

These were the words Mr. Darcy had used at the dinner in Longbourn and she had immediately taken offense, which his subsequent argument had strengthened. She had thought that he was calling the decision that George Darcy was about to make by proposing to her, impudent, when in actual fact, he must only be referring to his younger brother's infamous intentions towards her. _'So that is why he came here so unexpectedly,' _Elizabeth thought as her stumbling thoughts arranged themselves, _'to stop him from trying to ruin another girl's reputation along with the Darcy family name.'_

She sat back, resting upon the headboard. George Darcy's strange reaction every time anyone mentioned that it was odd that he had come to a small town when the season in London was at its peak, now made complete sense to her. Her instinct told her that he must have come here to hush up some scandal in the town, and his brother followed him hither as soon as he discovered that he was about to stir one at Hertfordshire as well.

Elizabeth frowned, she could not understand why Mr. Darcy gave her his consent to marry his brother on the day that they met by the pond when he knew that George had no intention of this sort. _'Aha,' _she thought in triumph, _'George Darcy must have duped his brother as well.' _George Darcy, cunning that he was, must have assured his brother that his reason for paying her such pointed attentions was to offer her marriage in the end, for nothing else could have made the stoic Mr. Darcy try to make peace with someone from a station as low as he considered hers to be.

Mr. Darcy, though proud and arrogant, at least had some principles in him, which unfortunately his brother sorely lacked. And even though he had insulted her once, he had not made any plans to compromise her, maybe he considered her too low born for even **that. **But he had never tried to act familiar towards her, or to single her out from the rest of the ladies, his only fault so far had been his pride and a sense of unmistakable superiority, and right now, that was vastly preferable over the all coveted quality of amiability in Elizabeth's eyes.

One by one, all the chips fell into their proper places as Elizabeth's tired mind started to fall in and out of the oblivion of sleep. She placed her head on the pillow and wrapped the covers around her, suddenly feeling vulnerable and unprotected. The Darcys were not good for her, she must stay away from them and fall back into the protection of Longbourn and Mr. Bennet.

* * *

Elizabeth kept falling in and out of a disturbed sleep so that when the light began to filter through the curtains and the birds started to chirp outside the window, she thought it best to get up and get ready. As she carefully got off the bed, not wanting to disturb Jane, she opened her eyes.

"Where are you slipping away so slyly to?" Jane asked her sleepily.

"How do you feel today, Jane?" Elizabeth wanted to ascertain if Jane was able to travel back to Longbourn.

"Much better, thank you," she replied with a smile that Elizabeth returned tentatively.

"I do not want to impose upon you Jane darling," she sat besides her on the bed and took her hand in hers, "but I am afraid that I shall have to go back to Longbourn today." Jane looked slightly alarmed at that.

"Is everything all right Lizzy?" She asked in concern.

"Of course," Elizabeth smiled for her benefit, "but I remembered that I had promised Mrs. Belton that I shall help little Tommy with his numbers today," she lied about a promise to one of their neighbours that she never made.

"Indeed," Jane, who always believed everyone, saw nothing to doubt in her sister's honourable offer to help the poor cripple child, who Elizabeth had taken quite a fancy to recently, "then by all means let us both go back today for I feel quite up to returning home."

"Oh really Jane," Elizabeth squeezed her hand in affectionate relief, "or are you only being kind?"

"No my sweet sister," Jane smiled reassuringly at her, "it is about time that we returned, we have trespassed on the Bingleys' hospitality far longer than is proper, whatever little of my illness remains, can just as easily be rested away at home."

"Oh you do not know what a great relief it is to me to see you just as eager to be home as me, for I would not have moved you against your will and at the risk of you getting ill again, for the world." Elizabeth said happily as she looked at her kind sister.

"Lizzy," Jane suddenly frowned, "is something the matter, are you in a haste to get away from here for a reason that you are not telling me?"

"Of course not, silly," Elizabeth got up quickly and walked towards the door to the wash closet, "I shall go and write a note to Papa to send the carriage immediately, after I change and then I shall send the maid to prepare you for our departure as well." She quickly washed and changed and then stepped out the door to walk off to the small writing room that Miss Bingley had pointed out to her the day she had come to Netherfield Park. Jane was not prying but she also was not a simpleton, and the sisters knew each other too well, therefore it would be safe to think that sooner or later Jane would come to the conclusion that something was amiss. Elizabeth entered the writing room just as she decided that she would tell Jane everything after she was healthy enough, for it would take a very strong mind to absorb the shock of George Darcy's duplicity.

"Miss Elizabeth," Elizabeth almost cried out loud as the door shut behind her, "I had not anticipated having the pleasure of your delightful company so early in the day," George Darcy sat in front of her with a quill in his hand and a complacent smile on his lips. She blinked as she tried to master the anger that had started to boil inside her once again coupled with a great unease at finding herself alone with him.

"I did not know that this room would be occupied so early in the morning," Elizabeth said in a voice that trembled with suppressed emotion, "I shall leave you to your writing then." And with that she was about to turn around and leave the room, but Mr. George Darcy got up from his seat by the writing table and made his way towards her in quick long strides.

"I found myself unable to sleep properly last night," he said pleasantly, "so I decided to come and write a letter to a friend of mine, as soon as the sun came up."

Elizabeth could not be bothered less about who he was writing to, so she merely nodded and was about to turn again when his words stopped her.

"And pray, who do you intend to write to this morning?" He asked as he smiled a most beautiful but utterly useless smile, as far as Elizabeth was concerned.

"To my father," she said archly, "asking for the carriage."

"Oh," he looked stupefied for a moment, _'perhaps because he had not yet had his __**way **__with me,' _she thought with mounting irritation, "I did not think that Miss Bennet was sufficiently recovered to be moved yet."

"Well," Elizabeth said impatiently, "she is and we are to go back home today."

"I wish you were not in such a hurry to leave us yet, Miss Elizabeth," he stepped closer and Elizabeth suddenly felt alarm bells ring in her ears, "there is so much that I wish to say to you," he almost whispered now. Elizabeth shook her head at this sad attempt to seduce her by George Darcy.

"Then it will have to wait," she said sharply, and turned around quickly to leave through the door when he caught her hand and pulled it gently to turn her back towards him.

Elizabeth's eyes blazed with anger. Her hand felt scorched where his held it. She slowly turned around and as her heated amber gaze encountered his brazen blue one, she felt a shiver of disgust run through her. His eyes made her feel so filthy that she wrenched her hand out of his grasp with a force that she did not know she had in her.

* * *

George went to his room in a sour mood after everyone retired for the night. He had half a mind to call Hurst out for blabbering in front of Darcy, but knew that it was pointless since Darcy had heard him airing his aim to ensnare Elizabeth Bennet. He felt irritated at being thus accosted by Darcy and Bingley, he was an adult and they had no right to lecture him. If only Darcy had not been such a prude, he might have learnt to have a bit of fun once in a while.

George had a fitful night's sleep and then went to the writing room early to write and tell the tale of what had happened the night previous to Farnsworth. He was sure that at least his friend would enjoy it. Just as he got ready to start the letter, Elizabeth entered the room, apparently to write a note to her father to ask for the carriage. She looked so beautiful that George could hardly contain himself and before he knew how, he stood near her, her beautiful tapering fingers clasped in his. Oh how he had waited for this, longed for…

**SMACK!**

His pleasurable thoughts were rudely interrupted when Elizabeth wrenched her hand out of his grasp and slapped him hard on his cheek with the same hand. George was confounded. He had expected a pretense at struggle, perhaps a witty debate or a push even, but a slap? His face slowly became hot as he noticed the sting in his cheek and in the eyes of the woman who stood in front of him fairly trembling with rage.

"How dare you?" She spat, "I am not one of the ton debutantes, whom you seduce at your will after filling their heads with nonsense and useless flattery."

George stood slightly dazed and reeling from the impact of her slap, the sound of which still echoed in his ears, besides Elizabeth's harsh words, which she was uttering with an angered energy.

"If you think that you would be able to **have your way with me, **if and when you please then you are living in a fool's paradise Mr. George Darcy," her voice kept on rising as did the fire in her eyes and the colour in her face, "how could you, even for a moment, think that I shall encourage you in your presumptuous schemes of having an illicit affair with me?"

"I…," George opened his mouth but she apparently was in no mood to listen to him, _'how the hell does she know of my __**presumptuous schemes?'**_

"I am Elizabeth Bennet," she straightened her shoulders as her voice lowered a little, "not one of the common flirts that you are used to dealing with, and you would do well to remember this whenever you try to come near me again." She swept around but stopped and said with her back still towards him, "and yes, I heard what you said in the billiards room the night previous," and then she left the room as swiftly as she had come in, leaving a bemused George in her wake.

Elizabeth Bennet, a country nobody, from an ordinary background and some really reprehensible family members, had the nerve to slap **him,** George Darcy, the darling of the ton's society. George slowly backed towards the chair by the window and fell upon it as his astonishment at being thus reprimanded changed slowly into an anger that would have consequences even he did not expect. He was not going to attack her like some wild animal, he was **free **in his ways but he had never taken liberties from a woman who did not willingly allow him, nor was he going to do so now, after Darcy and Bingley's strictures.

It was true that he had entertained **high **hopes of getting more than just smiles from Elizabeth, but he would never dream of forcing himself upon a woman just like he could not imagine there being a woman not willingly accepting his advances. He had intended to get close to her, but his intentions were based on the assumption that she would reciprocate his feelings, he would surely have stepped back at the realization of how strongly she felt about this, there was no need for her to lash out at him in such a vicious manner.

He felt some surprise at her hearing them in the billiards room the night previous, but it was her own fault surely, for who asked her to listen in on the private conversations of gentlemen? Had she not heard that eavesdroppers never heard any good of themselves? And so what if he had said some things that were, perhaps a little too crude for a lady's ears, he had no idea that she would be spying on him, now did he?

He credited her ire with nothing more than a pretense at chastity, to be sure, she was harbouring under the illusion that he was fairly in love with her, and when she heard his true motive in paying attentions to her, she must have felt affronted. That must be why she was so furious. _'The fool,' _he thought indignantly, _'I could never fall in love with an impertinent madam like her.'_

Blissfully unaware of the future and thoroughly rattled by what had just happened, George fumed. He cracked his knuckles as he simmered in his own ire. _'Oh she shall pay,' _he promised himself, _**'dearly**__, for this slap.' _George was many things, but he was not forgetful, and this incident with Elizabeth was not something that he was going to overlook in a hurry. After sitting near the window and fuming for sometime, he got up and made his way to the door. She deserved to be brought off the high horse she had taken a perch upon. He shall show her what seducing a woman really meant, and he would do it admirably.

George climbed down the stairs, he shall bring her to her knees if it is the last thing he did. It was clear in his mind that Elizabeth must be taught a lesson, all he needed now was a plan to do just that. He reached the breakfast parlour and entered, William was the only occupant there.

"Good morning brother," George chirped as if he had not just been severely slighted at the hands of a woman that he had thought of as another one of his conquests, for he knew that he needed to stay in the good books of William and at Hertfordshire until he had had, what he desired, **revenge,** "lovely day, is it not?"

* * *

As soon as Darcy stepped out of his room at Netherfield Park, he noticed raised voices coming from behind the closed door of the writing room, situated a little ahead of his own. He wondered who it could be and just then the door opened and out stormed Miss Elizabeth Bennet with flushed cheeks and blazing eyes. She slammed the door shut behind her as she stood in the corridor without noticing his presence there and then raised her hands to her cheeks as if to cool them down, shook her head and stalked off into the opposite direction.

Darcy felt curious as to who could be her companion, stepped towards the writing room and noticed that the door had slammed but had not closed, he peeped through and to his surprise, saw George sitting in a chair by the window, with a face just as red as Miss Elizabeth's had been. _'Had they been having an argument?' _He wondered somewhat worriedly, as he carefully stepped back and then went downstairs to the breakfast room where he was joined by George after a few minutes in a pleasant mood.

"Look here George," Darcy started carefully, "I hope you are taking my words from last night and the ones before that, seriously."

"William, please," he stiffened, "let me have my breakfast in peace. I assure you I have washed my hands off your precious Miss Elizabeth, for good."

Darcy frowned at his brother, gobbling up his eggs.

"She is not my Miss Elizabeth and I would caution you to get a grip on your tongue," he said coldly, "for if it kept running away with you like it has fallen into the habit of doing, it shall land you in bigger trouble than you are already in."

"For heavens sake, stop threatening me," George sipped his tea in a hurry, "I would not go near her, all right?"

"Oh, but you did go **near **her this morning, I heard you two arguing in the writing room," Darcy said dryly as he finished his breakfast and poured himself some tea, "do you mind telling me what happened?"

"Yes very much," George jumped up, his face going crimson, "Miss Elizabeth is a heedless, insolent woman and I do not want to talk about her." He got up hastily and almost ran out the door.

Darcy felt taken aback for a moment, perhaps George really did have an argument with Miss Elizabeth in the writing room, and Darcy knew well in which direction arguments with that woman tended to go. He once again found himself alone and curious in the breakfast parlour when Miss Elizabeth entered on Bingley's arm. They greeted him politely, filled up their plates and then took their places on the table as they continued the discussion which they must already be having before they entered the room.

"As I was saying Miss Elizabeth," Bingley began somewhat guardedly as he cut through his fried egg and allowed the yolk to spill out in a small yellow puddle, "Miss Bennet could not have recovered enough to travel right now."

"She assures me that she has, Mr. Bingley," she replied calmly but firmly, spreading jam and butter by turns on her toast, "and even though you have been most gracious in your hospitality, we are both eager and ready to go back to Longbourn now."

"I hope this sudden decision of yours has not been due to any misconduct on part of the staff or even your hosts," Bingley asked in concern and Darcy looked up sharply from his tea to observe a tell-tale blush spreading on Miss Elizabeth's cheeks.

"No, indeed," she hastened to deny, rather too quickly as the knife slipped through her fingers and fell on the china plate with a soft chink. Darcy frowned, _'what is she hiding?' _"You have been nothing but attentive and considerate, a perfect host if you may. But we have already infringed upon you for too long and it is time we went home now that Jane feels able to make the short journey. I also have some commitments that I cannot ignore any longer, and therefore must beg your leave."

"In that case I shall ask my coachman to prepare the carriage for you immediately," Bingley smiled amiably at his guest and Darcy watched with interest as her features lost some of their tautness.

"I thank you Mr. Bingley," she smiled at last, for the first time that morning, it seemed to Darcy, "I did go to the writing room to write my father a note asking for the carriage, this morning," Miss Elizabeth told him with a somewhat pale countenance, "but it was…ah…err…occupied and I was unable to finish my task. Therefore your offer is most welcome and it would be a pleasant surprise for my father to see us home as well."

"Of course," Bingley gulped the last of his tea in haste and got up, "I shall order it directly."

"But you can always ask," Miss Elizabeth began to stop him but he was out of the room before she could finish her sentence, "the footman to go in your stead." She finished after he was gone. Darcy looked towards her and she towards him, as their eyes met, neither could stop the exasperated smiles from spreading on their faces.

"Bingley is almost always in a hurry," Darcy felt it his duty to explain his friend's hurried manner, "especially if something needs to be done for a friend."

"He is too kind," she said demurely as she bit on her toast and some of the jam got stuck to the side of her lips. Darcy could not help but stare for a moment before averting his eyes, knowing full well that he should be informing her of it so that she could wipe the jam off, but somehow feeling embarrassed to do so.

"That he is," Darcy said slowly, as he tried to rid his mind of the picture of her lips.

"And you disapprove?" She suddenly asked in a slightly defensive manner that made him look up and then curse inwardly, the jam was still there.

"Bingley does not need my approval," he shrugged his shoulders indifferently.

"So you do disapprove," her eyes got a sudden shine in them, at being correct perhaps, "tell me Mr. Darcy, is it the haste that you object to or doing something for a friend?"

"The haste most certainly," he conceded easily as he thought himself to be in the right, "for the reason to hurry must be in proportion to the need for it. For example, after offering you the carriage, if he had stopped to notice that you were still at breakfast, he must have been able to conclude that it would take you a half an hour at least to finish up here, and then bring down your sister, also accounting for the luggage to be brought down. Whereas it only takes ten or maybe fifteen minutes to ready a carriage, therefore he could have postponed his hurried departure until he had finished his breakfast."

"Or," Miss Elizabeth smiled mischievously at him, "he could have saved himself the trouble of doing any of the hard mental work that you just described, by simply asking the footman to do his bidding."

"Precisely," Darcy poured himself some more tea, something that he normally never did.

**"You** would certainly never run after a carriage for the comfort of ladies that you have only known for a few weeks," she observed mildly as she added milk to her tea and then stirred in some sugar.

"A cruel observation," Darcy returned dryly and she dimpled, "yes, perhaps I shall not. But then I would not do it even for my own sister. I believe in practicality Miss Elizabeth, and why would I hire so many footmen if I have to do their task myself?"

"Has the thought of doing so as a gesture of love, friendship or mere respect never crossed your mind?" She looked archly at him. _'The damn jam,' _thought Darcy in irritation.

"No, Miss Elizabeth," he drained his cup, "for when I truly love, respect and consider a person my friend, it is obvious enough and I rarely have the need to assert it with useless gestures such as running after carriages."

"Obvious to you," she took a delicate last sip of her tea and then got up, "but perhaps not to others."

"If a person cannot asses the depth of my feelings for them," he got up as well and stepped away from his chair, "then maybe they **should** be left in suspense."

"But you guard your true feelings so well, Mr. Darcy," she said with a pointed smile, "that the suspense might **kill** the person, whoever they are." Darcy's lips twitched, he hid his smile with difficulty.

"Not always," he drawled as she turned towards the door, the jam still sticking to her mouth and for some reason irking Darcy immensely, "and Miss Elizabeth," he said at last just as she was stepping out of the door, "you have a bit of jam on your…," he tapped his finger lightly at the corner of his mouth, for some reason feeling shy to utter the word **lips**.

Watching her blush a pretty pink almost made him smile. Almost. She nodded and then swiftly departed. Darcy also went out for a ride and when he came back, the Bennet sisters had left but George still had not returned. Darcy went inside to have a chat with Bingley, thinking of George's words from last night, the raised voices coming from behind the writing room door, and the jam on Miss Elizabeth Bennet's lips as she had come dangerously close, unknowingly, to make him smile.

**A/N: **The discussion between Elizabeth and Darcy is adapted from the discussion on 'Bingley's indirect boast' in the original.

**Next Chapter: A False Apology**


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8: A False Apology**

Elizabeth walked in silent contemplation besides Kitty and Lydia as the three strolled towards Lucas Lodge. It had been three days since she had returned from Netherfield Park with Jane. Jane was on the mend and rather quickly too, for all the Bennet children had strong constitutions, and were too energetic in general to be able to stay in bed for much longer. Now that Jane was almost recovered and Mr. Bingley was expected to make a call along with his sisters and perhaps his guests as well, Elizabeth thought it better to remove herself from the home and happily tagged along with her two youngest sisters when they went out to pay a visit to their particular friend Maria Lucas.

"La, Kitty," Lydia laughed needlessly, "you have the memory of the Vicar's old mother. It was not the straw hat, it was the bonnet that I trimmed so beautifully with the pink ribbon that Aunt Gardiner sent me. I wore it on my birthday as well."

"All your headgear looks the same to me," Kitty huffed and coughed at the same time, "for you trim them all with pink silks, lace or ribbons."

Elizabeth quickly lost interest in the silly argument about who wore which bonnet on Lydia's birthday, an extravagant affair, a few weeks ago, that marked her coming out as well. She still remembered Mama's constant pestering of Mr. Bingley to throw a ball for her dear Lydia. Even Jane had felt deeply mortified at Mrs. Bennet's all too transparent hints and had barely been able to hide her distress.

"Lizzy," suddenly Kitty noticed that Elizabeth had been unusually quiet, "you have been awfully quiet this morning."

"Oh it is…," but Lydia jumped in with another story, about silk slippers this time, and did not let her finish, which was just as well for she had no plausible excuse either.

She had felt deeply disturbed after coming home from Netherfield Park. Her early morning encounter with George Darcy had upset her more than she had thought it would. As soon as she had found out that he was inside the writing room, her hackles had began to rise. His words, his smile, his whole attitude seemed like conceit personified, as if he was sure of being received positively by her. His smug expression coupled with her knowledge of the previous night's events, about his all too deplorable plans of compromising her, had left her in no mood to be anything but rude towards him. But the man simply was too sure of himself, and their encounter had quickly come to an end as Elizabeth's hand left an imprint on his face and her words, hopefully, on his mind.

Lydia and Kitty increased their speed as the Chimneys of Lucas Lodge came into view, leaving an already lagging Elizabeth behind. Some quiet reflection in her room as Jane had her breakfast, and a pleasant encounter with Mr. Bingley as she was coming down the stairs had gone a long way in calming her down. And then there was Mr. Darcy. _'Yes,' _she grudgingly admitted to herself as she hastened after Kitty and Lydia, _'the exchange I had with him on the breakfast table is perhaps the only time that I completely forgot about Mr. Darcy's cad of a brother, since that awful moment outside the billiards room.' _

It was hard to believe that they were brothers, for where George Darcy rarely talked about things other than the ton or the ladies, and that too when he was not flirting, Mr. Darcy always proved to be an intelligent conversationalist, albeit a little too rigid in his opinions. He obviously did not look too kindly towards Mr. Bingley's easy acquiescence to obliging others, but that did not make him a villain, indeed his dry manner and lack of any interest in her or any other lady around him was the only thing that Elizabeth had come to appreciate about him. If Elizabeth had not had George Darcy's over familiar manner to compare it with, she might have pertained Mr. Darcy's stony silences and conceited words to his pride in himself and his disdain towards others, but even though he was all that, in comparison to his brother, he unquestionably seemed like the lesser of the two evils.

"Look." Lydia's excited shriek pulled her out of her reverie, "there's Maria and Charlotte."

Both parties hurried towards each other and greeted their friends warmly, quickly dividing into two groups. The younger girls moved towards the house and the older ones towards the bench under the tree.

"We had just set out to pay Jane a visit," Charlotte told Elizabeth as she adjusted her warm brown shawl about her arms, "how is she?"

"She is well," Elizabeth said contentedly, "and improving. That is why you see me out on an excursion."

"Oh yes," Charlotte smiled, "you are a most devoted sister Lizzy, for after all you did go and stay with her at Netherfield as well."

"Hm," was her only reply. Her stay at Netherfield was something that could not be forgotten too soon, no matter how much she wished it.

"Shall we go to Longbourn then," Charlotte asked, sensing that Elizabeth probably did not want to talk about her stay at Netherfield, "I would really like to see Jane."

"If you wish it," Elizabeth replied dully and stood up, dreading the possibility of George Darcy's presence in her home.

"Would you not tell me what is bothering you, Lizzy?" Charlotte asked after they had been walking for sometime in silence, "it might help ease the load off your mind if you told somebody about it."

"I told Jane," Elizabeth replied in the same vein, tucking a stray lock back under her bonnet, "but it did not help," and then she cried in exasperation as she turned towards her dear friend, "Oh Charlotte, you cannot imagine how wretched I have been ever since my return from Netherfield."

"My dear Lizzy," Charlotte looked alarmed as both of them stopped in the middle of the path, "what is the matter, what happened there to make you so distressed?"

"I…I overheard George Darcy saying something awful about me," she averted her gaze at the memory of his insensitive display.

"What did he say?" Charlotte took her hand in hers, worry evident in her clear green eyes.

"He…prepare yourself for something dreadful Charlotte," Elizabeth took a deep breath as she held on to Charlotte's hand, and then blurted out, "I heard him telling Mr. Hurst, not that he deserves to be called a Mr., that he…he wants…to b-bed me."

Charlotte's hand left Elizabeth's as she covered her mouth in horror. Charlotte Lucas was almost seven years Elizabeth's senior, but it would not be far off the mark to say that her knowledge of the world at six and twenty was exactly what it had been at nineteen, so in that respect at least, she and Elizabeth were not much different. As Elizabeth described what was said in the billiards room at Netherfield Park, Charlotte's shock increased for she could scarcely believe Mr. George Darcy to be so very bad and now wholly agreed with Elizabeth that he did not deserve to be addressed as a gentleman for he was not one.

"I did not, could not go down for dinner that night," Elizabeth smoothed her forehead with her fingers, "how could he think about me in that manner," she wailed, "has my behaviour been remiss in any way, tell me honestly Charlotte?"

"No," Charlotte cried vehemently, "Lizzy, you have been nothing but distantly polite to him of late, and even in the beginning you were never more than what is good and proper towards Mr. George Darcy. He alone is to be blamed for the filthiness of his thoughts and intent."

"Obviously I could not stay there anymore," Elizabeth motioned for them to resume their walk, "therefore we came back after ascertaining that Jane would be able to endure the small ride and thank God that she did, for Mama is already vastly displeased with me for bringing her home earlier than she had **planned."**

"Did you not encounter him again in the morning?" Charlotte asked in concern as the path winded towards Longbourn.

"I did," Elizabeth sighed as she remembered what had happened that morning, "we accidentally met in the Netherfield Park's writing room. I wanted to leave as soon as I discovered his presence there but he grabbed my hand and tried to stop me and I…I could not control myself anymore and I…I slapped him."

Elizabeth saw Charlotte wince at that for close as they were, they could not be called similar in temperament. Charlotte obviously did not approve of Elizabeth's loss of temper.

"Lizzy," she asked as she looked at her with worry, "was that really necessary? He could become vindictive, you know."

"Oh fie," Elizabeth said scornfully, "he can become mad for all I care. I am not afraid of him. He is the one who should be afraid of showing his face at my house after all that happened between us."

"You and I dear friend," Charlotte tried to reason with her, "cannot understand how gentlemen's minds work, let alone scoundrels'. It is always better to be somewhat cautious in matters such as these."

"You are right, of course," she said sulkily and Charlotte smiled at her petulant expression, "Jane said the same. But look at the provocation, perhaps if I had not heard him the night previous then I might not have reacted so harshly, but the effect of both these incidents combined, was rather too much for me and I could not control my anger."

"What he said and did is abominable to say the least," Charlotte said firmly, "I shall not try to prove everybody's innocence in this and attribute it to some misunderstanding like Jane is sure to, but your reaction must also be curtailed. Do not go flying at him the next time he comes across you."

"Indeed," Elizabeth smiled, "that is exactly what Jane did, tried to defend everyone. And I shall try not to be too offensive, I promise."

"Oh look," Charlotte pointed out, "everyone is enjoying the sun in the grounds."

"Oh for heavens sake," Elizabeth complained as she made out the identity of everyone present, "why did he have to come?"

"Now Lizzy," Charlotte warned again, "do be cautious."

"I'm only saying," she pouted, "why is he not in some profession? Second sons usually are."

"The Darcys are probably too rich for that," Charlotte said contemplatively.

And the two friends slowly and unenthusiastically progressed towards the party assorted in Longbourn's garden. Jane was sitting on the bench with Mr. Bingley while Mary and Mr. Darcy stood awkwardly together. A little distance away was standing the one man that Elizabeth had hoped never to glimpse again, George Darcy. As Elizabeth and Charlotte approached, the men all came to attention, bows and curtseys were made and the usual greetings exchanged but the inner feelings of everyone present, except Mr. Bingley and Jane, remained hidden under smiles, frowns and in case of Mr. Darcy, silence.

"Lizzy," Jane looked at Elizabeth with a beautiful smile on her face, "Mr. Bingley is come to invite us all to a ball that he is to have at Netherfield on the coming Tuesday."

"Indeed," Elizabeth said with affected cheerfulness as she kept her back turned towards George Darcy, "that is good news." Inside she could only hope that the Darcys would be gone by then, otherwise there could not be any hope of pleasure at the ball for Elizabeth.

"Our next call would be at Lucas Lodge Miss Lucas," Bingley said graciously to Charlotte, "I would like to personally invite Sir William, for he has been nothing but kind to us ever since we arrived in the neighbourhood."

"I thank you sir," Charlotte smiled at the pleasant mannered man, who could easily be called one of the pleasantest men she had ever come across, "we have not had the pleasure of a private ball in a long time."

"And I am sure that your news of a ball shall meet with far more enthusiasm at Lucas Lodge than the somewhat lackluster response here," Elizabeth's eyes crinkled at the corners, "for both my youngest sisters are there and it would be Lydia's first ball since she has come out." Mr. Bingley looked a little scared at the prospect of being ambushed by Lydia but maintained his bravado as well as he could.

"Lydia and Kitty must learn to curb their carnal instincts," Mary philosophized to a stunned audience, "and uphold the standard attributed to the fairer sex."

Jane looked uncomfortable and Mr. Bingley's mouth hung open, Mr. Darcy turned to stone and Charlotte hid her laugh behind a cough, while Elizabeth's only reaction was a slight twitch of her lips. What George Darcy did, she could not say, for she had her back to him.

"May I talk to you for a moment Miss Elizabeth?" The voice of George Darcy whispered in her ear, making her shiver in repugnance, as everyone around her talked amiably about the ball, well everyone except Mr. Darcy and Mary, who still stood awkwardly together without opening their mouths.

"No," she hissed and was about to move away when she felt Mr. Darcy's curious gaze upon them, and decided not to raise anyone's doubts on something being amiss between the two of them.

"Please Miss Elizabeth," he pleaded, "I beg you, you must allow me to apologize."

Elizabeth stiffened up at his words. _'Could one little slap' _she wondered,_ ' work such a magic as to make a dishonourable man like George Darcy to stoop to __**begging?'**_She slowly stepped back and they started to move away from the rest of them and towards a **prettyish kind of wilderness **on the other side of the garden.

"Miss Elizabeth," he started in a gentle voice, "I do not have words to explicate my conduct to you."

"But you must say something," she mocked, "and quickly, for I do not have any wish to continue in your company anymore."

"I am heartily ashamed of what I said and did while you stayed at Netherfield," he stopped walking, making Elizabeth do the same as they turned to face each other, "my only excuse is that what you overheard was the blabbering of an insecure man not sure of the reception of his regard by a lady."

Elizabeth stared at his handsome face, overcome with remorse, but stayed quiet, as he continued, encouraged by her silence.

"What I said was merely a foil for my true feelings for you," he said apologetically, "I could not afford Hurst knowing the truth for he would surely blurt everything out to my brother, who," here he stopped and looked towards the silent figure standing a little way off where they had left him, "you might have guessed by now, is against a match between me and you."

Elizabeth raised an eyebrow but remained silent still, wanting to know how far he would go with this farce of an apology.

"Miss Elizabeth," he stepped closer, chagrin plain on his face for all to see, "could you ever find it in your heart to forgive my idiocy, look past that awful time and once more try to be civil if not cordial towards your humble servant?"

"I shall endeavour to be civil to you in company, **only,"** she said with dignity and a calm that she was far from feeling, "but do not expect me to be anything other than that."

"That is all I ask for now," he looked truly happy as a beautiful smile lit his face, "now let us get back to the rest of the party."

Elizabeth quickly folded her arms on her chest so that she would not have to accept his arm, if he offered it, which thankfully he did not. As they walked towards the tree where everyone was still assembled, she felt a new wave of disgust hit her. George Darcy must think her a simpleton indeed if he thought that he would be able to pull wool over her eyes. There was a chance, a very small one, that she might have believed him, if Mr. Darcy himself had not given her his consent to marry his brother on that morning when they had accidentally met by the pond. But now that she knew the **real **truth, she could feel nothing but furious at his pathetic attempt at make things right with her.

She looked sideways at his smug countenance as they approached the others, this man was not to be trusted, at any time. He had made plans to debase her in the presence of other men, tried to get over familiar with her in a house where she was a guest, and dared to smooth things over by avowing to have insincere sentiments and blaming everything on an untruthful tale, about his brother no less. As he jested with Charlotte, his good humour restored, Elizabeth thought of the expression of genuine regret on his face, and his truly relieved smile at the end of their conversation, and she silently added another quality to the rapidly increasing list of George Darcy's heretofore hidden personality traits, the man was undoubtedly a brilliant actor.

She smiled absently as everyone laughed at something Mr. Bingley said, everyone except Mr. Darcy, who hardly ever smiled, let alone laugh. Elizabeth could not be certain of what George Darcy wanted to achieve through his pathetic attempt at duping her, but she was sure of one thing, he was a dangerous man, and she had done well to take Charlotte's advice of keeping her temper in check, for it would certainly not do to provoke so unscrupulous a man. George Darcy smiled at her and she quickly averted her eyes, no, it would not do to provoke him at all.

* * *

It seemed as if he had been standing in the Bennet's garden for a long time without saying anything to the awkward looking girl, Miss Mary Bennet, who stood next to him, when in reality it had not even been a quarter of an hour. George had been unusually silent since the episode in the billiards room at Netherfield Park, and even now stood a little detached from the rest of them, a sulky expression on his face. Darcy sighed and looked towards Bingley, the only one who seemed at ease while he sat by the beautiful Miss Bennet as she smiled and nodded by turns at Bingley chattering away like a school girl home for holidays wanting to impart all the useful information about the hostel life to her siblings.

Just as he was determining to remind Bingley that they had other homes to visit in the neighbourhood as well, if any invitations to the ball that he was determined to have, in the face of strong protests by his sisters, were to be delivered, he saw Miss Elizabeth and Miss Lucas coming towards them from the woods, arm in arm and deep in conversation. He saw Miss Elizabeth start as she saw his brother and also the heightened colour on George's face. The two women approached and the necessary greetings followed.

Miss Elizabeth's manner seemed somewhat forced to him, as talk of the ball ensued and her normally bright eyes seemed to have lost their luster somehow. Her unease became even more prominent as George approached her from behind and whispered something to her, for a moment Darcy thought that she might step away from George but then she seemed to look up towards him and change her mind. They walked some distance away and Darcy could see George explaining something to her while she stood in silence.

Darcy turned his gaze away from them. He was intrigued to be sure, there was an undercurrent of something that gave unease to them both, yet he had no idea what it could be. Once again he thought of what could have happened behind the closed door of the writing room, and George and Miss Elizabeth's flushed countenances and her sudden departure afterwards. _'Could George have done something to make her apprehensive of him?'_ Darcy thought in slight alarm as they walked back and joined them, George looking in a relaxed and Miss Elizabeth in a contemplative mood.

"Let us all go for a walk," George suddenly suggested offering his arm to Miss Lucas, "I hear that there is a pond nearby that has a very strategically hung swing near it."

Darcy coloured lightly as his eyes met Miss Elizabeth's, that was where they had exchanged heated words on a morning a few weeks back, from the amused look on her face he could gather that her mind was also similarly engaged.

"I would beg to be excused," Miss Mary decided to speak up again after her previous stricture on correct female behaviour, "I have to practice my pianoforte, in this day and age, the importance of being an accomplished woman cannot be stressed enough," Darcy was amazed and sure that if she were a man, she would have made an exceptional parson. "I suppose that Jane is also not strong enough to venture that far, we must, after all, take it unto ourselves to assure the strength of our minds and body, by being enormously diligent when it comes to taking care of them."

"Oh no," Miss Bennet quickly denied any weakness that she might have felt, "I feel perfectly fine and up to a little exercise, besides, it is not so far."

"Are you sure Jane?" Miss Elizabeth asked in concern and Miss Bennet nodded. Miss Mary decided it was her cue to run away from the company that she had nothing in common with and promptly made her escape. Darcy looked at her retreating form with something akin to envy.

Bingley assisted Miss Bennet to the best of his ability, in the manner quite similar to a mother hen. Darcy rolled his eyes and stepped nearer to Miss Elizabeth, the only one left without an arm to recline on, but although she took his arm as they followed after George and Miss Lucas, it was only the barest of pressure. Indeed it seemed as though she was not holding his arm at all. Darcy looked sideways at her, she was staring ahead at the fast disappearing back of his brother and Miss Charlotte_, 'perhaps,' _he thought, _'she feels ill at ease with me.'_

He did not say anything to dispel the unease that the tall girl on his arm was obviously feeling, putting people at ease was definitely not his strong suit, and nor was opening conversations with intriguing women. He had always been reserved, but that reserve had many a times been a foil for nervousness in his youth and apathy as an adult, but right now he was neither anxious nor indifferent, he was on the contrary very much curious about the strangely quiet Miss Elizabeth.

"When do you leave for town Mr. Darcy?" She suddenly looked up at him and asked in an agitated manner.

"The day after the ball," he replied and wondered why she was so anxious for him to leave.

"Oh," disappointment was clear on her face, "does not Miss Darcy miss her brothers, both of you have been **quite a long time **here?"

"She must," he agreed as the pond came into view. Miss Lucas climbed up the swing while George stood nearby and watched. Miss Elizabeth stopped at some distance from the pond, forcing him to do the same, "and to be honest, so do I. But she has commitments and friends there who are going to keep her busy, I am sure, besides, not many days are left in our departure," he finished quickly, feeling somewhat guilty at leaving Georgiana alone for such a long time.

"Of course, but friends and commitments can never be a substitute for family," it seemed as though she would not let go of the topic until she was successful in sending them back. He could understand her animosity towards himself, but why she was so anxious to get rid of George was incomprehensible to Darcy.

"I did want to leave a couple of days ago," his countenance darkened unconsciously at the recollection of what had passed at Netherfield some nights previously, "but Bingley insisted that we do not leave without attending the ball."

"I did not think you to be so easily persuadable," she looked at him accusingly and he noticed once again the brilliance of her eyes framed by dark lashes.

"And I did not think you to be so easily discomfited," he returned equably as Bingley and Miss Bennet approached from a distance.

"Why would I be discomfited?" She asked incredulously as she removed her hand from his arm and backed up a little.

"Then why, if I may ask," he bent towards her, his eyes fixed to her face, "are you resolved upon having me sent home at the earliest oppourtunity?"

She stared at him for a moment and then all fire left her eyes. She shrugged her shoulders and said in a dull voice, "not **you** Mr. Darcy, not you," and then stepped towards her sister as she came closer. Darcy thought her words to be somewhat enigmatic, but could not press her to divulge her meaning due to the arrival of Bingley and his angel on the scene.

"You are not tired Jane, are you?" Miss Elizabeth asked Miss Bennet who did look a little wan but smiled nonetheless.

"No, indeed," she reassured her sister, "I feel perfectly fine but I would like to sit down for a few minutes I suppose."

"Is there a bench nearby?" Bingley jumped needlessly, his face becoming red as his ire at the unknown person, who failed to place a bench there, rose. Darcy shook his head slightly at his stupidity.

"I am afraid not," Miss Elizabeth told him and then took charge of Miss Bennet, "come Jane, you must sit down under that tree," and with that she guided her sister to a nearby tree and settled her there while Bingley clucked around them.

Darcy looked on and felt a sudden pang of sadness for Georgiana. How wonderful it would have been for her to have a sister like Miss Elizabeth, who cared so deeply for Miss Bennet. He still remembered the state of her dress when she had arrived at Netherfield after hearing of Miss Bennet's illness. She had looked almost wild on that wet spring morning with her dirty dress and untidy hair, but beautiful as well and her eyes, such bright fiery eyes, but most striking of all was the concern on her face, for her sister.

And even now when Miss Bennet was almost recovered, she was still mindful of her comfort and active in ensuring it. He turned away as George and Miss Lucas approached from the swing and thought of Georgiana's lonely existence. She had never had a confidant, a friend that she could share her thoughts and opinions with and even though both Darcy and George took prodigious good care of her, they could never be a substitute for a sister. There was Anne, of course, but she lived so far away and they met only once a year, and she only ever communicated with their Collier cousins by post. He sighed and observed George as he stood near Miss Lucas, staring at Miss Elizabeth, an unknown emotion burning in his eyes.

"If no one wants the swing anymore," Miss Elizabeth got up from next to Miss Bennet, "I shall like to have a turn." Everyone refused.

"May I escort you thither, Miss Elizabeth," George asked her hopefully and Darcy clenched his fists, he could not understand why George was persisting in the pursuit of Miss Elizabeth when both Darcy and Bingley had told him categorically to stay away from her. His eyes met Bingley's and Darcy nodded, understanding Bingley's silent plea to keep his brother away from Miss Elizabeth.

"That should not be necessary," Darcy stepped in and offered her his arm, his tone sounding sterner than he had meant it to be, Miss Elizabeth looked startled for a moment, but thankfully that moment passed quickly and she accepted his arm. George's fair face darkened momentarily before he schooled his features into a forced calm.

Darcy stared at Miss Elizabeth's image on the still water while the swing arced to and fro above it. He picked up a small stone and threw it on the water sideways, and then watched it jump seven times before finally sinking in after distorting her reflection.

"That is a pretty trick, Mr. Darcy," Miss Elizabeth turned towards him with sparkling eyes, "I never succeed beyond the second jump."

"I have years of practice behind me," he told her seriously, his mind still on the disturbing behaviour of his brother and the odd gleam in his eyes as Darcy had taken Miss Elizabeth away.

"Do you have a pond near your home as well?" She asked with interest as she swished past him on the swing, leaving behind the soft fragrance of orange blossoms.

"A stream," he drawled, "and it is inside the grounds of Pemberley." It was a beautiful brook, that ran down the front of the estate, giving it a natural charm that no amount of money could buy.

"Is it?" She suddenly stopped the swing but kept sitting on it as she turned towards him with interest, "and does it have a tree nearby as well?"

"It does," he replied in some confusion, not knowing what the questions were leading to, "an alder."

"How wonderful for Miss Darcy," she started to swing again.

"How so?" Darcy turned towards her in a slight surprise, she was not as easily read as most women were, he did not understand her at all.

"She gets to have a swing over water right in her own house," Miss Elizabeth said flashing him a white smile that showed her teeth to maximum advantage, as the swing went back, "quite easily accessible," and then forward.

"But she does not," Darcy said somewhat guiltily, "there is no swing at Pemberley." Miss Elizabeth's swinging once again came to an abrupt halt.

"Oh," she said and he could read disapproval in her eyes, "and why not, if I may ask?"

"I never considered it," he thought of the many quiet mornings that Georgiana had spent in practicing on the pianoforte or the harp, or by simply sitting silently by the fire when she could have gone out to the stream and enjoyed a perfectly decent time by doing what Miss Elizabeth was doing right now. He looked up and found that what Miss Elizabeth was doing right now was staring at him with displeasure.

"And she never asked for it?"

"She did not."

"Mr. Darcy," Miss Elizabeth started to swing again but very lightly now, "I do not presume to lecture you on how to treat your sister, but sometimes activities out of doors can be more helpful in the character building of a young woman than collecting accomplishments," she said in a thoughtful voice.

Darcy was stung for a moment, he was a good brother, always ready to procure whatever was desired by his sister, but then he calmed down. He always gave her what she needed, but what about what she wanted? Miss Elizabeth's actions towards her own sister had made him wish that Georgiana could have had such a companion a few minutes ago, and now her words had made him think how caring she was towards the welfare of a person she had not even met. Yes, this was the kind of influence Georgiana needed in her life.

"You are right, of course," he conceded and looked at her with some admiration, she was a good person, this Miss Elizabeth.

"It is not too late though," she looked towards him with an excited smile, as the swing slowed down even further, "why do you not ask someone to have a swing hung by the stream, it would be a marvelous surprise for your sister whenever she goes back to Pemberley?"

"It is a fine notion," he nodded and almost smiled at her, she was looking at him with a childlike enthusiasm. Darcy made a mental note to ask her how she kept her teeth so flawlessly white, "and I thank you for it." Miss Elizabeth blushed suddenly and got off the swing.

"Please do not," she demurred and then looked up at him with her eyes brimming with mischief, Darcy was mesmerized, she really did have the most amazing eyes. "Besides, Miss Darcy would not be alone for long, we hear that you are to bring her a sister soon." Darcy stared in astonishment as she quickly paled and took a step near him, "Forgive me, Mr. Darcy," she said fervently, "I did not mean to be impertinent, I just…I…," she floundered off.

And just like that, her sparkling eyes and dazzling smile were all forgotten, Darcy was angry beyond measure. How dare George tell such tales about him to people he had not even met a few weeks before? And this, he looked grimly at Miss Elizabeth's face as it burned with shame, this woman, how **dare she **taunt him about it, had she no manners, no sense of decency? Darcy was an exceedingly private man and the very reason he had not courted Lady Felicity openly was that he did not want people to talk, if things did not work out the way he had planned. Yet here he was standing in a remote area of Hertfordshire, being teased about a woman he may or may not marry, by another woman who knew nothing about him. He felt furious, but stayed quiet until he had mastered himself.

"I think it is time we went back," he bowed stiffly to her and then walked towards the others. They all walked back to Longbourn, from where the gentlemen collected their horses and were away before Mrs. Bennet could press them into having lunch there, but it was not for a lack of persuasion, for the woman nearly drove him crazy with her constant harping on the quality of fish that her cook, a rival to the French if Mrs. Bennet was to be believed, had procured.

All the way back to Netherfield, Darcy fumed. He knew of Miss Elizabeth's lively manner and bold opinions, but he never imagined that her insolence would know no bounds. Teasing an acquaintance about an imaginary person was one thing, but a real woman, of a good standing in society, her name could not, nay should not be associated with a gentleman's name so callously.

He sped Hermes on faster, leaving George and Bingley behind, she had realized her mistake fast enough though, and had immediately apologized as well, but Darcy could not so easily condone such a lapse in manners, nor so quickly, no matter how much the eyes of the woman sparkled. It was only after he had reached Netherfield and soaked in the bath water, that he realized that this was the first time he had thought of Lady Felicity, since coming to Hertfordshire. He closed his eyes to think of her now, but the mortified countenance of Miss Elizabeth was all he could recall.

* * *

George was a happy man as he sat atop his horse on his way back from Longbourn. Elizabeth Bennet was not as clever as she thought herself to be, nor was his brother as aware of the workings of his mind as he thought himself to be. For George's mind was quite ahead of Darcy's, as was his plan to teach the insolent Elizabeth a lesson that she would never forget.

He got off the horse and handed the reins to the stable boy and then walked leisurely back towards the house with Bingley. His plan was ready, and at the ball which was in a few days, he would put it into motion. Now all he needed was an accomplice, he frowned, who could it be? Just then the front door opened and out came Miss Bingley.

"Oh Charles," she cried at her brother, "where have you been all morning? I have an urgent need to talk to you about the arrangements. Make haste and meet me in the study," and with that she was gone.

George watched as Bingley hurriedly followed her. A slow smile curved his lips as he whistled his way up the stairs. _'Yes,' _he thought with glee_, 'Miss Bingley would be perfect for what I have in mind.' _He had bided his time and waited till the ripples, that his untimely outburst in the library, had caused to arise, had subsided, for indeed **revenge was a dish best served cold.**

**A/N: **This chapter was kind of a filler but next up is the big one, the Netherfield ball.

**Next Chapter: Her Loss is his Gain**


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9: Her Loss is his Gain**

Getting ready for a ball is always an exciting affair in a house dominated by females. Gowns are trimmed anew, as are bonnets, even though they are only to be worn for a few minutes. Favors are exchanged between friends and sisters, as all of them are of the opinion that the others have better accessories than them. Some disputes also arise but the thoughtfulness of elders quickly nip them in the bud.

All in all, despite Lydia's insistence that she deserved to look the best as it was her debut into the society, everything went well and they were all ready to depart in good time and looks, with beads adorning their hair and silk gloves and slippers giving an elegant touch to their appearances.

"How well your daughters look Mr. Bennet," Mrs. Bennet shrieked in pleasure as the carriage proceeded towards Netherfield Park.

"If their looks were still lacking after spending so much of money, my dear," Mr. Bennet mocked, "then it would have been altogether a hopeless business."

"Oh Mr. Bennet," Mrs. Bennet looked flirtatiously at him, "do be serious, you know how handsome your daughters are."

"Indeed my dear," he agreed wholeheartedly, "and they all have their mother to thank for it both for the origin, as they all take after you in that department, and the enhancement of the said good looks. Though I might here take some little credit as it is after all my money with which the enhancements are bought."

"I am sure Jane dear," Mrs. Bennet ignored Mr. Bennet, "that Mr. Bingley shall dance more than twice with you tonight, and that shall settle his intentions towards you. Not that there is any doubt."

"La," Lydia scowled at her mother, "I wish Mr. Bingley would propose to Jane tonight, for I am heartily fed up with Mama's planning and schemes. I wish it were over." Lydia's rant made everybody smile.

"We all are, child," Mr. Bennet sighed, "we all are."

* * *

Elizabeth entered the large building of Netherfield Park in the high expectations of having an excellent time. Her only fear was that George Darcy would ask her to dance, and the thought of him touching her, for no matter how short an interval made her nauseous, and yet if he asked her for the first dance, refusing him would mean sitting down for the rest of the evening, and that she was determined not to do. She had decided to avoid him until someone asked her for the first dance, and after thoroughly enjoying that, she would have no qualms to owning up to a headache and sitting down for the rest of the night.

She walked up to the hosts, Mr. Bingley and surprisingly, both his sisters greeted them with marked attention. Elizabeth took that as an omen of good times ahead and therefore stepped towards the ballroom arm in arm with Jane, with alacrity. But she felt a sudden chill as she entered and encountered Mr. Darcy's cold gaze. She averted her eyes and curtseyed in his general direction along with the rest of her family. This was the first time she had seen him after that rather unfortunate day when she had opened her mouth and put her foot right into it. She mixed and mingled with the other guests that had arrived before them and were still arriving, trying to steer clear of the Darcys, it was only this night after all, for Mr. Bingley had told them that they were to leave on the morrow.

At home Elizabeth had always had two extreme kinds of treatments as far as voicing her opinions was concerned, where Mr. Bennet always encouraged her to own up to whatever she felt, freely and honestly, her mother always tried to curb her **sharp tongue, **as Mrs. Bennet called it. But being closer to Mr. Bennet, Elizabeth had, with the passage of time, developed the habit of impertinence that was not always combined with sense. Both Jane and Charlotte had tried, at various occasions, to encourage her to hold her tongue and Elizabeth was trying to mend her ways and restrain her instinct of blabbering out whatever came to mind, but old habits die hard and thus her lapse in front of Mr. Darcy a few days ago.

"Miss Bennet, Miss Elizabeth," her rambling mind and legs stopped when she was suddenly addressed by Mr. Darcy and Mr. Bingley. Both ladies curtseyed and pronounced the gentlemen's names in return.

"I trust the arrangements are to your satisfaction," Mr. Bingley asked them all, but his eyes were only for Jane therefore Elizabeth remained quiet.

"Of course, Mr. Bingley," Jane smiled serenely at him, "everything looks magnificent."

"As do you Miss Bennet," he obviously thought it an excellent oppourtunity to take her hand in his and draw her a little closer to him, and away from the others, in this case, the others being Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy.

Elizabeth stole a glance towards Mr. Darcy and found him doing the same, both of them averted their eyes quickly, only to have them returned to their former targets yet again. When the same exercise was repeated for the third time, a smile broke out on Elizabeth's face. Mr. Darcy blinked.

"I should not have said, what I did, the other day, Mr. Darcy," she began tentatively, "my only excuse is that I have been horribly indulged at home to speak my mind, and now it has become an impulse."

"I can suggest some exercises in control," he said dryly.

"I am already endeavoring to master this awful habit of mine," she said somewhat sheepishly as she touched the beads in her hair lightly, "and even though I am open to criticism, the particular brand that you have adopted," she spread her hand for a moment and then dropped it in exasperation, "that of silent disapproval, is more than my guilty conscience can take," she looked at him with appealing eyes and saw his frown disappear as his face softened somewhat, but he still remained quiet.

"Not all of us are fortunate enough to be free of faults like you Mr. Darcy," she said mischievously, tipping her head to a side as people moved around them.

"I have faults enough Miss Elizabeth," he said gravely shifting his weight from one foot to the other, "but I am careful not to have them on display for everyone to see and ridicule."

"Like your immense pride in your family's nobility and heritage," Elizabeth folded her arms defiantly on her chest, once again forgetting that she was supposed to be trying not to be too straightforward, "indeed, **nobody** could ever suspect you of having **that** fault."

"Except you, Miss Elizabeth," he raised an eyebrow, "you seem quite sure in your estimation of my character. May I, therefore, take the liberty of assuming that you think your opinions just as unprejudiced as I suppose my pride to be properly regulated?"

"So you do not suppose pride to be a fault," she smiled at Charlotte who raised an eyebrow at her from the other end of the room and then looked archly back at the arrogant man standing in front of her, "what then, may I ask, are the **covert** faults that you claim to have?"

"Can you not guess," she almost fainted with surprise as she detected a hint of teasing in his tone, "you, who is such an astute judge of character?"

"I never claimed to be such," her hackles rose as his mood lightened, _'what an infuriating man,' _she thought.

"My mistake Miss Elizabeth," he bowed slightly, a smile threatening to erupt on his face.

"I believe we were discussing your faults, not my qualities," she frowned at him, _'is he mocking me?' _She thought with annoyance, _'this is not to be borne.'_

"I can be called adamant, I suppose," he said thoughtfully after a moment of pondering as he looked somewhere above her shoulder, "if once I make up my mind about someone's culpability, I hardly ever change it. I take care not to judge people hastily, but if found wanting, they do stand the risk of losing my esteem, forever. In short, Miss Elizabeth, I do not believe in second chances," he finished firmly.

"That does sound rather formidable," she looked carefully at him, "I hope you do not consider my outburst from the other day to be something that could be categorized as such," her tone became impish again and she smiled at him, " for since you are leaving tomorrow, I would not like you to take a horrible impression of me back to town."

"Not very horrible," he said dryly, but his eyes twinkled, making Elizabeth grin in response.

"Miss Elizabeth," she suddenly found them being joined by the dreaded George Darcy and her smile disappeared quickly.

Even though she knew that she was supposed to return his greeting by either pronouncing his name or curtseying but she could not bring herself to do either. Instead she just stared at him in the fear that he would ask her to dance and then she shall have no choice but to pretend to be unwell and sit down somewhere in the corner, while everyone else danced around her. Not a very appealing prospect.

"I have been looking for you," he smiled and she wondered how a beautiful smile could be rendered ugly by a depraved mind.

"I wonder why," she said archly, willing him to get the message behind her words and leave her alone.

"Do you," He returned equally, "is it not obvious?"

"You have me at a loss," she said in a bored manner, indeed arguing with George Darcy was not half as much fun as sparring with his brother. If only the said brother would quickly change the topic, but no, he was standing there in a stony silence, as usual.

"I wish to engage you for the first two dances," he looked with hope mingled with surety at her.

Elizabeth dilemma was great in that moment. Refusing George Darcy meant that she would not be able to dance with anyone else for the rest of the evening and accepting him was absolutely out of the question. She reached her decision quickly though, she would much rather be considered a wallflower than be touched by a man whose intentions towards her were far from honourable. She sighed and looked directly into his eyes.

"I'm afraid I shall have to decline," she said dejectedly, as his face coloured slightly, "because I have…," she was about to say that she had a headache when Mr. Darcy's deep voice cut through her hearing.

"Because she has already accepted **me," **he said firmly to an open mouthed George Darcy and a wide eyed Elizabeth, "oh, there is our cue Miss Elizabeth," he offered her his arm and she placed her own upon it in a trance, "the couples are lining up."

A stunned Elizabeth soon regained her faculties and went on to have an unexpectedly enjoyable time dancing with Mr. Darcy, for not only did he dance rather well, he also was an interesting conversationalist when he put his mind to it. In fact. She had such a good time that she barely noticed George Darcy standing in a corner looking sullenly at them. But like all good things, the dance also ended and Elizabeth's final, or so she thought, meeting with Mr. Darcy was quite the opposite of their initial meetings.

Thankfully, George Darcy did not persist in asking her to dance till she finally said yes and Elizabeth enjoyed the second dance in the pleasant company of Captain Cuthbert, but this dance, though pleasant enough, was not half as agreeable as her first one. She gazed at the guests frolicking around and her eyes unconsciously sought Mr. Darcy's tall form out. He was lazily walking around the ballroom, alone, Elizabeth suppressed a smile as she rolled her eyes, the man was an incurable recluse. She sighed, he was so handsome though and _'those eyes',_ she blushed slightly at the turn of her thoughts, but he did have the most striking grey eyes that she had ever seen, pale with indifference one moment and dark with concentration the next.

Her eyes remained on his person as he moved to a window and turned his back towards the rest of the room. What an unusual gentleman he was, uncaring of what was going on around him and yet sensible of it all the same. He was not as arrogant as she had first thought him, nor as formidable, he had, after all, saved her from his brother twice, not to mention laughed with her. He had a pleasant laugh, low and throaty. She saw him turning around and peeled her eyes off him. It was no use thinking about Mr. Darcy, by this time tomorrow he would be out of Netherfield, out of Hertfordshire and out of her life.

Elizabeth stood fanning herself in a corner afterwards, observing Jane and Mr. Bingley, happily engaged in some conversation, that made them insensible to what was going on around them. She smiled, one of the first signs of love was to become oblivious to the others and completely enraptured by your beloved and though Elizabeth had no experience of the sort, she could tell that Jane and Mr. Bingley were a fair way to falling in love, if they were not already. It was thus engaged, in pleasurable meditations, that she found herself approached by none other than Miss Bingley.

"Miss Elizabeth," she said courteously, "you seem hot, would you like me to bring you a drink?"

"You are too kind," Elizabeth felt extremely surprised at this sudden generosity, "but as you are well aware, I do not drink."

"Oh that is not a problem," Miss Bingley waved aside her excuse, "we have arranged lemonade for people like you," the last bit was said with a certain amount of scorn which proved Elizabeth's surprise at her initial courtesy to be well placed, for indeed, Miss Bingley could never think the people of Hertfordshire to be good enough to deserve her attention.

"Of course, Miss Bingley," she wanted to be rid of the fickle woman, and therefore agreed to have the glass of lemonade, "I am grateful to you."

A waiter was promptly summoned and ordered to bring the drink to them. It came and was swallowed quickly by Elizabeth, leaving an odd taste in her mouth, but she didn't dare complain of such a thing to Miss Bingley and therefore kept a smiling façade as long as she could. For some reason Miss Bingley kept standing next to her, making awkward attempts at conversation and because of that nobody else came near her. She even saw, with amusement, Charlotte change her path half way when she observed who Elizabeth's companion was.

"Miss Elizabeth are you all right," Miss Bingley suddenly asked her, "you look pale?"

And true enough, Elizabeth felt odd. She was in complete command of herself but felt somehow weakened.

"It is nothing," she said in a low voice, "but I had better sit down."

"I think you should go to the library," Miss Bingley said with authority, "and I shall send Mrs. Bennet to you."

"Oh that is wholly unnecessary," Elizabeth quickly denied the need for her mother, but even as she said it she knew that she was not feeling herself, "well perhaps you should," she told Miss Bingley after a moment's consideration.

"Would you be able to make it to the library on your own?" Miss Bingley asked in concern and Elizabeth at last warmed up to her for her concern.

"Certainly Miss Bingley," she tried to smile, "I am most grateful to you."

Miss Bingley nodded and was away within a moment, while Elizabeth slowly made her way towards the library. She felt slightly better as soon as she entered the library, it was dimly lit and felt pleasantly cold after the oppressing heat of the ball room. She had not even furthered a step into the room when someone else entered after her.

"Mama," she turned around and felt herself face to face with George Darcy who slowly but surely closed the door behind him.

"Well, well," he smiled devilishly at her bewildered countenance, "looks like we are together, at last."

"W-what do you mean?" Elizabeth said in an alarmed but low voice, she was having difficulty in speaking, her tongue seemed to have thickened somehow.

"You have been very elusive lately, haven't you," he advanced towards her as she walked backwards, till her knees touched a table, blocking her further retreat, "my dear Elizabeth?"

Elizabeth gulped, something was wrong, something was horribly wrong. She could not believe how she ended up in a room alone with a man who could, on no account, be trusted.

"Do not dare call me by my name," she trembled with a rage that had built up inside her but somehow she could not express it, "and move away, I have to go."

"Stop playing games, my darling," his face seemed flushed and his eyes excited as he cupped her cheek, closing whatever little distance that remained between them, "you know I would not,** cannot**, let you go."

Elizabeth felt faint, and yet she was not a coward, _'why am I feeling so weak?' _She asked herself in misery, bordering on dread. The house was full of people, anyone might come to the library any time, what if they were found like this? With an enormous effort she placed her hands on his chest and pushed him away. But that effected him in no way other than to make him laugh, a low rumbling sound that made the hair on her back stand on edge.

"I truly admire your spirit," he pulled her closer till their faces were merely inches apart, "that is part of why I want you so much," his voice became husky, as his face dipped nearer.

"Stop it," she tried to push him away with every ounce of strength that she had, but her knees seemed to give way just at the same time, as the hands with which she was trying to push him away clutched at the lapels of his coat to keep her standing, at least, "you have drugged me," she whispered in a voice almost faint but still ridden with shock, as the reason for her sudden and untimely weakness hit her.

"Clever Elizabeth," he murmured in her ear, his breathing seemed laboured like Elizabeth's slow and shallow breaths, "aren't you just perfect?" he told her in a caressing tone that made Elizabeth revolt in anger as she tried to struggle against him once again.

And then she watched with mute horror as his face descended upon her, his lips about to touch hers. Elizabeth quickly threw her head back, so that his lips fell on her neck instead of her face.

"Hm," he hummed appreciatively, "what a beautifully long neck you…,"

He did not get to finish his sentence as the door to the library was thrown open and Mrs. Bennet's twittering voice flooded the solitude of the room.

"Now where is that girl," she said as she entered. Elizabeth turned her head towards the door with difficulty and a soundless 'Mama' left her lips.

"Well I never," Mrs. Bennet shrieked and someone stepped up from behind her as the library door closed with a thud once again.

"Lizzy," it was Mr. Bennet's shocked voice, "what on Earth is going on?"

"That is what I shall like to know very much, as well," another voice, from some other corner of the room spoke up and Elizabeth felt the acute misery of being shamed not only in front of her parents, but also Mr. Darcy as he stepped towards them and slowly appeared in the dim light from the dark shadows, his face a stony mask.

George Darcy quickly stepped away, leaving her to sway on her feet, alone and cold and weak.

"Papa," she whispered, "Papa…,"

"George I warned you," came the cold voice of Mr. Darcy before she could say anything, not that she had the strength to, "I told you that if I found you in a compromising situation with a lady again you would **have** to marry her."

"No," Elizabeth suddenly summoned the force to protest, "it is not…," but she was once again, not allowed to finish her sentence.

"Has this man compromised you Lizzy?" Mr. Bennet asked her in a voice shaking with deep shock and anger as Mrs. Bennet stood next to him with her mouth hanging open.

Being unable to muster up the strength to speak, she tried to shake her head but it reeled and she could not utter anything coherent except "Papa," she looked helplessly at him as she clutched the table behind her for support. Mr. Bennet's face suddenly seemed wrinkled and old as his shoulders slumped.

"I cannot believe this of you," his voice was dead and cold, **"anyone,** but you."

"They must get married of course," Mr. Darcy said firmly in an unemotional voice, from his place next to her parents and Elizabeth felt her knees tremble under her.

"Yes," came the dejected voice of Mr. Bennet, "of course."

"But," Elizabeth protested at last, "nobody knows," that was all she could say before her father lashed out at her.

"And you think that your mother will not tell anyone about it," he said scornfully, "you unthinking, selfish child."

"George?" Mr. Darcy asked the blackguard still standing next to her, without opening his mouth.

"I…well…yes," he said a little hesitantly, "I agree, we must get married."

Elizabeth felt like she was falling in a deep pit with no light as voices of her parents and Mr. Darcy reverberated around her. _'This is not happening to me,' _someone inside her wailed, _'this could not be happening to me.' _But her protests were futile, since nobody could hear them, the pit was getting darker, and she was now falling faster and faster until she hit the floor and lost all consciousness.

* * *

Mr. Darcy watched the guests filtering into Netherfield Park's ballroom. Miss Bingley had surely outdone herself in the arrangements that day, the ballroom looked like something out of a fairytale, he thought looking around in appreciative silence. And then the Bennets arrived and that was the end to his peace.

His eyes fell on Miss Elizabeth and he could not help but think how beautiful she looked, in all white splendor. He hated to admit it but in the days that intervened between their outing in the woods near Longbourn and this day of the ball, he had spent an unreasonable amount of time thinking about her and was now only glad that this night was all that remained of his stay at Hertfordshire.

George had begun to act quite strangely, spending most of his time in earnest conversation with Miss Bingley. He would not mind if he decided to marry her instead of Miss Elizabeth, but Miss Elizabeth was certainly a superior creature, if her wayward and at times caustic tongue could be tamed. He cleared his throat needlessly as a naughty suggestion of how to tame the said tongue sprang up in his mind from nowhere. As her bright eyes fell on him, he immediately wore his typical expression, of haughtiness. She averted her eyes and proceeded to meet and greet other people, until she and Miss Bennet stood face to face with him and Bingley.

He could not understand how she managed to do away the lingering effects of their previous conversation but before long he found himself engrossed in earnest conversation with her as she indicated that she thought him proud and he hinted at her not being a good judge of character. He noticed that her eyes flashed whenever she got excited and she repeatedly touched her collar bone on both sides with her thumb and index finger, bringing them together slowly and then letting them drop to the necklace she was wearing. Darcy found this action peculiarly absorbing and kept his eyes away from her fingers with difficulty.

It was thus that George found them and asked Miss Elizabeth to dance. Darcy could see her discomfort plainly written on her face then, she clearly did not want to dance with George. Darcy knew of George's intentions towards her and therefore he also did not want them to be together unnecessarily, but he could not comprehend why Miss Elizabeth was reluctant to dance with his brother. And so just as she was about to make an excuse for not dancing with him, Darcy, without realizing what he was about, told George that he had already asked her. He felt deeply amused as Miss Elizabeth's eyes widened comically, but she did not contradict him, for which he was thankful, as it would have been the most embarrassing moment of his life if she had.

"I do not remember **when **you asked me to dance Mr. Darcy?" she looked up at him with shining eyes as they took their place in the set.

"And I do not remember **when** you said yes," he shrugged his shoulders, "a faulty memory, therefore, is another fault that you can attribute to me," he said dryly, but his eyes, he was sure, must be giving away the mischief that was behind what he said, or so her laughter told him.

"I am done trying to find fault with you," she said as the dance commenced and they stepped towards each other, "for I have just found one that I rather like," she gave him her hand, which he took, and they proceeded down the set.

"And what is that?" He looked at her sideways and thought, _'my, she dances amazingly well.'_

"You would not hesitate to lie while trying to protect a friend," she said without turning towards him while he observed her profile, thoughtfully.

"So you consider yourself a friend of mine, now?" He wanted to sound unemotional, but knew that some of the pleasantness that he felt at her words must have seeped into his voice.

"That depends Mr. Darcy," they took their places in the formation once again and she now looked directly at him, her eyes an almost orange shade in the light of hundreds of candles that illuminated the hall, "did you lie for me?"

After a long time, years perhaps, Darcy felt at a loss for an answer. She raised her hand and Darcy copied her movements, bringing their hands close until they touched lightly. _'I must think of something to say and quickly,' _he thought in agitation, _'this slip of a girl cannot be allowed to get the better of me.' _But it was a clear case of easier said than done, he stared at her as they went through the motions of the dance. Some of his uneasiness must have shown on his face, for he saw a quick change occur in Miss Elizabeth's countenance.

"I am only jesting with you Mr. Darcy," she swiftly changed the topic, "do you never laugh?"

"Sometimes," he said gravely, still not completely recovered from their short exchange.

"When was the last time that you laughed," she tipped her head to a side as the dance came to an end, "truly?" And then the dancers bowed and curtseyed to each other as the formation broke up.

"Whenever I am with Col. Richard Fitzwilliam," he told her thinking fondly of the military man, responsible for making him laugh the most in his life, "he is my cousin." And then he offered her his arm which she took as they slowly extracted themselves from the throng of dancers.

"And how often do you meet?" She looked up at him and asked with interest.

"He is to come home from his post in a few days," Darcy told her moving towards where her sisters stood, "I shall be able to meet him when I go back to London."

"Then I am glad that you **and your brother **are leaving tomorrow," she said sincerely, emphasizing on _'your brother' _somewhat.

"And shall you not miss our company," Darcy teased, something else that he had not done in a long time either.

"I shall not lose any sleep over it," she replied firmly, with just a hint if impertinence.

"You wound me Miss Elizabeth," Darcy loosened up completely as her eyes started filling up with mirth, "I should have thought you to cry every night for at least a week in your pillow."

"Not every night," she frowned playfully, "but I give you my solemn word that I shall cry once at least, but not in my pillow. I shall cry in the onion basket, it is far easier to summon tears by that method, do you not agree?"

Darcy smiled, then grinned and then dropped his head and chuckled while Miss Elizabeth laughed lightly, her eyes dancing with every flicker of the candles.

"This is perhaps the silliest conversation I have had in a long time," he told her after both of them caught their breath.

"And the most enjoyable as well, I suppose," she smiled, "for what can indicate a person's enjoyment better than their laughter?"

"Very philosophical," he said sobering up, "but true as well."

"I am glad that we part on a friendly note Mr. Darcy," she stopped a few steps away from where Miss Mary and Miss Catherine stood.

"As am I," he looked into her clear eyes and felt that he truly was glad, "Farewell Miss Elizabeth, I wish you a happy life," He said and bowed to her.

"And I wish you a life that is happy and filled with laughter," she told him sincerely and then curtseyed and moved away.

Darcy watched her walk towards her sister and felt a sudden dissatisfaction at their conversation. He wished that he had said something else to her as well, something more meaningful, something that would make her remember him always, just like he was sure to think of her every time he laughed now. He tore his eyes off her person and slowly made his way towards a window, as the second dance started.

He stared out into the dark night and wondered if Miss Elizabeth would be dancing this set, turned around and saw her making a quadrille with an officer, Bingley and Miss Bennet, looking every bit as happy and content as she always did. There was something to be said for having an optimistic approach and she surely had one, he observed her as she smiled at something her partner said. Darcy left his post by the window and walked around the room, gathering bits and pieces of odd conversations, but not quiet absorbing any of it.

He stopped near the drinks and his eyes fell on George who was dancing with Miss Bingley. Darcy frowned, George's excessive interest in Miss Bingley alarmed him somewhat, _'is she his new target now that he has been warned off Miss Elizabeth?' _He wondered. The dance came to an end and everyone scattered about, as ladies fanned themselves and the gentlemen fetched them drinks. His eyes again sought his former partner out and saw her standing with Miss Bingley while a waiter served them drinks. Darcy smiled and wondered what Miss Bingley was doing with Miss Elizabeth when it was obvious for all to see that she had no love lost for her.

The heat in the ballroom suffocated him and he made his way out of the house and into the gardens. It was a beautiful starlit night, and he was happy that this time tomorrow he would be in the comfort of his own house in London, with Georgiana by his side, and George safely away from folly. He walked towards the veranda that led to the windows of the Library and decided to spend the rest of the evening with a book, before retiring early to his room.

Darcy stepped inside the open windows in a leisurely mood and simply started at the sight that met him. He stared openmouthed as Miss Elizabeth dropped her head backwards to provide easy access to his brother who was exploring her neck while murmuring something as she clutched the lapels of his coat. Darcy clenched his fists as amidst the shock of the moment and the subsequent anger that followed it the slight twinge in his heart went unnoticed. His blood boiled at such shameless display by the woman who went about blowing the horn of self respect and disinterestedness. He took a step towards them and was about to interrupt the couple locked in a passionate embrace when the library door was thrown open and none other than Miss Elizabeth's parents materialized.

Darcy fought for composure as he walked where the unpleasant scene was taking place. Mr. Bennet looked like thunder for a few minutes until he realized that his daughter was an equal and willing participant in what had happened. Darcy felt pity for him as his face clouded and his shoulders dropped, but the woman who was the cause for such disappointment in her father had nothing to say for herself except a shameless argument,

"But nobody knows," she said weakly and Darcy's contempt for her duplicity increased manifold.

"And you think that your mother will not tell anyone about it," Mr. Bennet retorted, "you unthinking, selfish child."

"George?" Darcy thought it better to ask his brother as well, before he created a scene by refusing, but he was in for a surprise there.

"I…well…," George began hesitantly, but then suddenly his expression changed from uncertain to decided as he continued in a firm tone, "yes, I agree, we must get married."

"Mr. Bennet," Darcy turned towards the man who himself was responsible for the conduct of his daughter, for there must be some severe lapse in his upbringing that had turned a gentleman's daughter into a wanton, "we must discuss the particulars."

"Not today Darcy," he waved a hand in front of him as he stared ahead with unseeing eyes, "not now."

"But Mr. Bennet," his wife tried to speak up, "Lizzy…," but he stopped her in the middle of her sentence.

"Do not argue with me now Mrs. Bennet," he told her in a sterner voice, "I have no patience for your nerves at this moment."

"Will it be all right if my brother asks for your daughter's hand tomorrow?" Darcy gave a cursory look to his brother, who nodded his assent, "although it is only a formality, but has to be carried out nonetheless," he said in a matter of fact manner. It was no use beating about the bush, the truth of the relationship between George and Miss Elizabeth was out in the open. Mr. Bennet nodded meekly as his wife stood by him open-mouthed.

"Then it is settled," Darcy was about to continue when he saw, along with everyone else, Miss Elizabeth fall to the ground in a heap of white skirts. Stricken, he quickly stepped towards her but George preceded him since he was still standing quite close to her.

"Do not go near my daughter," Mr. Bennet warned as he leapt towards the fallen figure amongst shrieks from Mrs. Bennet, "you are not to touch her until the law says so," he spat. George's face clouded but he got up and stepped back.

"But why has Lizzy fainted?" Mrs. Bennet quickly sat down and moved her daughters head intro her lap.

No one had the answer to that. Darcy looked towards the unconscious form of Miss Elizabeth and felt a moment's doubt at what he had seen with his eyes. _'Could it be that she was not a willing participant?' _He wondered as he observed her wan countenance but then rejected this surmise. His reasoning was that if she was averse to George's **attentions, **she should have been pushing him away, not clutching him to her.

"I shall go fetch the doctor," George told them as he moved towards the door.

"No," Mr. Bennet said firmly, "I do not want a scandal. We shall go back to Longbourn and summon the doctor there."

"I shall go and ask your carriage to be summoned along with the rest of your daughters then," George suggested again and this time Mr. Bennet acquiesced.

Darcy watched in indignant silence as Mr. Bennet carried the limp form of Miss Elizabeth outside through the library windows, her face pale and her hair coming out of the elaborate hairstyle. The Miss Bennets huddled inside the carriage, the youngest two complaining about how they were having so much fun and how they did not care if 'Lizzy' had fainted.

He turned towards George after they had left and he seemed in a surprisingly good mood. Darcy felt revolted at his carefree acceptance of the consequences of his actions, without even a hint of remorse. They had a chat in the library and Darcy was at least certain that George wanted this, and even though the Bennet family was not exactly what he had pictured for his brother, it was better than some tavern slut that he might have brought back home.

At last his brother had become ensnared in the trap of his own device, he had set out to compromise Miss Elizabeth without having to marry her, and she had turned the tables on him. She allowed him to have his way with her and also be **found** doing so, thereby leaving him no option but to propose.

He went to his room that night tired and dispirited. What he had thought Elizabeth Bennet to be and what had she turned out to be, he removed his cravat and fell on the chair by the hearth. He could not believe how that girl had taken him in, and made him think that she had no interest in ensnaring his brother, when all the while, that was all she was doing. Carefully ignoring him to increase the allure, looking impartial when she had actually set her cap at him, and worst of all making Darcy think that she was a virtuous and not a conniving woman. He had no doubt now that what he had thought to be an argument between Miss Elizabeth and George inside the writing room was another one of their trysts in reality.

Darcy changed and went to bed with a heavy heart. To think that he had, even for a moment, thought that Georgiana would benefit from her company. Everything that Miss Elizabeth had done, now seemed like a hoax, a farce to pull wool over his eyes, and oh how gloriously successful she had been. George and Miss Elizabeth deserved each other and made a formidable pair, one out for lust, the other for greed. He closed his eyes tightly to think of something else, but the image of her hands clutching George's coat desperately as he traced her long beautiful neck with his lips had branded itself on his irises.

* * *

George could not believe the sudden rush of happiness he felt when his brother said that he had to marry Elizabeth. Elizabeth, the one woman, the only woman whom he had thought so much about, wanted so desperately, whose company he had enjoyed so thoroughly. He turned to look at Elizabeth who swayed lightly on her feet. He felt a moment's remorse as he gave his approval to the plan of their marriage, he was after all deceiving everyone by making them think that Elizabeth was a party to their rendezvous in the library.

How heartrendingly beautiful she looked as she finally closed her eyes, while her parents and his brother discussed when George should ask for her hand. He wanted to reach out to her, to hold her, to comfort her before she fainted dead away, for he knew that she would, he had tampered with her drink himself. As if on a cue, she dropped down to the floor, but her father did not allow George to come near her, _'crazy old stick'_.

He watched as Mr. Bennet took her outside to the carriage, insisting that the doctor would see her at Longbourn, if at all. But George was not concerned about her unconscious state, the medicine that he had dropped very carefully into the glass of lemonade that Miss Bingley, his partner in crime, had ordered for her, was meant to do just that. He had planned the whole thing such that as soon as they were spotted together, she would faint, thereby making her unable to defend herself, and by the next day, it would be too late for her to do otherwise.

He had not, however, reckoned with the appearance of Mr. Bennet and Darcy. He walked back into the library with his brother as he thought of the plan he had concocted with Miss Bingley. His plan was only to summon Mrs. Bennet, who in her hysteria at spotting her daughter in such a position with such **an eligible bachelor, **would blurt everything out to the whole world, only to be contradicted by Miss Bingley who would vouch for his presence inside the hall, with her. It had seemed a perfect ploy to defame Elizabeth and get his revenge, but as soon as Darcy had suggested that they should marry, all thought of reprisal had fled his mind, leaving it only with the pleasurable image of how life would be with Elizabeth by his side.

"What are you about, George," Darcy's voice snapped him out of what he was thinking, "first I hear you planning to compromise Miss Elizabeth, then I actually catch you in the act and her parents reach there at the exact moment as well. Do you not think that this was a rather unfortunate coincidence?" Darcy stared at him with hard, unrelenting eyes from his place by the hearth.

"No," George looked him straight in the eyes, and walked towards the other side of the hearth, "that is to say, that I do think it a coincidence, but not an unfortunate one." He knew well that it was not even a coincidence, it was all planned and staged by him.

"Then can you tell me how Miss Elizabeth, you and her parents came to be found in the same room, at the same time?" Darcy asked as his intense grey gaze bored into him, "and I beg you no more lies George, do me the courtesy of telling the truth for once." George squirmed somewhat before finally replying.

"It was through no scheme of mine I assure you," lies had always come easily to him, ever since Lady Anne Darcy died. Lying had helped him in many a tight spots, and with no blue gaze to look at him in disapproval, no soft voice to admonish him and no fair head shaking in disapproval, it had become second nature to him. "I saw Miss Elizabeth going towards the library and followed her here." Darcy looked skeptically at him for a moment as he placed his elbow on the mantle piece.

"Are you sure that she did not lure you here?" He asked sardonically.

"We both know she is not that kind of a woman," George stiffened at the implication of Darcy's words, suddenly feeling protective of Elizabeth, she was after all to be his wife.

"And yet she allowed you liberties that no decent woman would allow a man unless he was her husband," Darcy's words pierced him. Elizabeth had not allowed him to even dance with her, let alone take liberties.

"Not everyone is as devoid of passion as you William," he said dryly and sat down upon the large plush chair, "we got carried away."

"Was your plan not to compromise her only," Darcy asked again as he looked carefully at him, "and yet you seem content enough at the prospect of marrying her?"

George thought of how elated he had felt at the suggestion of marriage to her and a beautiful smile lit his face.

"I shall not lie to you William," he looked up at his brother and this time he was trying to tell only the truth, "I had not intended to marry her, but when it was mentioned, I honestly felt that there could be nothing more wonderful than marrying Elizabeth."

He saw Darcy start at his avowal and the casual use of her first name. Well he could make whatever he wanted to of it, but she was Elizabeth in his mind, and from tomorrow, she shall be Elizabeth in his address also.

"But you were determined to marry for love," Darcy looked confused in the extreme as he walked away from the hearth and then back.

"But I do love her.," George felt odd at admitting this, "she is the first woman I have truly felt for William," he got up from the chair and walked up to his brother, "she makes me laugh, she makes me wretched, I just cannot stop thinking about her. She has truly bewitched me."

Darcy blinked at him but stayed quiet.

"Have you not seen how considerate, how kind she is," he further asserted Elizabeth's merits "think of how good she would be for Georgiana."

"The idea of a woman who allows strange men liberties in quiet corners of a house brimming with people, as a companion for Georgiana does not appeal to me," Darcy's face hardened.

"For God's sake, stop being so stern," George said irritably, "she is a good woman, you shall find that out soon enough."

"Let us hope," Darcy said doubtfully, "be ready by eleven o' clock tomorrow morning, we are expected at Longbourn, you are to make your addresses to her." Darcy told him gravely and then went out of the room.

George sighed a breath of relief and came back to the chair he had just vacated. He was glad that Darcy was so prejudiced against Elizabeth, otherwise it would have been difficult to convince him of her share in the whole situation. Knowing Darcy's strict sense of honour, he would have made sure that Elizabeth **not** marry George if he had found out that she was blameless. And that was something that George could not afford until he was secure of her hand.

He smiled at the thought of her hand, the same hand that she had slapped him with. How angry she had been and how angry he had been afterwards and that anger had propelled him to avenge her in such a disreputable way. But all his anger and feelings of revenge were done away with now, replaced by a new feeling that he had never felt before.

"Elizabeth," he whispered.

He loved Elizabeth.

* * *

**A/N: **I know that by now a lot of you readers must be gearing up to jump down Darcy and Mr. Bennet's throats therefore I would like to clarify a few things.

Darcy saw what he saw without knowing any of the particulars. He didn't know that George had planned everything, he knows that his brother is rakish enough to think of taking 'allowed' liberties from a female, but is unaware of George's capability to concoct such an elaborate plan for a petty revenge. Therefore he automatically assumes that Elizabeth must be a willing participant and from where he is standing, it really does seem that way. I'm not asking you to forgive him, but do try to look at everything from his perspective.

I did mention in my first author's note that Mr. Bennet would be OOC. Well this is it. Mr. Bennet's case is almost the same as Darcy, but he is more to be blamed for he knows his daughter and should have trusted her. Unfortunately, Elizabeth, under the influence of whatever George administered to her drink, failed to defend herself and whatever paltry attempts she did make, only made her case worse. Again, do try to look at the whole scene from his point of view, the point of view of a father with five daughters on the brink of losing their reputations because of their mother's fetish for gossiping unless he stops it by making Elizabeth marry George.

Thank you so so much for your lovely reviews, I probably wouldn't have gone further than a single chapter without them.

*I am not sure if the sentence, "you have drugged me" is correct by Regency standards, but I didn't know how else to write it.

**Next Chapter: An Engagement of Compromise**


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10: An Engagement of Compromise**

Elizabeth woke up to a severe headache on the day next to the Netherfield ball. She had briefly came to her senses in the night as soon they had reached back from Netherfield. She had vomited out everything that she had taken throughout the day, while the apothecary's assistant had checked her pulse and told her parents that there was nothing wrong with her except that she had taken something that did not suit her. She felt strange as she looked around the empty room, it truly had been a long time since she had woken up with the sun overhead. She sat up and rubbed her eyes, as she pondered why she had a hollow feeling in the pit of her stomach, and then it started coming back to her. The horror of what had happened the night previous at the library in Netherfield, struck her with all its force once again, more real now that she did not have anything in her blood to make her thought process slow.

A strangled cry of frustration left her throat at how George Darcy had drugged her, compromised her and was now going to marry her. She trailed her fingers down her throat at the memory of George's touch and then shivered in disgust and covered her mouth with her hands. She was sure that he somehow lured her to the library, she just could not figure out how.

"Ugh," she made another unintelligible sound, threw the covers off and climbed down the bed. George had one way or another administered something into her drink, and that had initially made her too weak to react to what he was doing and finally simply become unconscious. He had schemed and planned that whole shameful scene to be played out in front of her parents, but to what end? Elizabeth got into her dressing gown and went to the water closet, her head still reeling, thinking of what possible motive George might have had to compromise her in front of her parents when he had no intention of marrying her.

She went into the breakfast parlour and found out that her father had sent all her sisters to her Aunt Phillips's house in order to have some peace at home when the Darcy brothers arrived. Elizabeth's irritation and dread kept on mounting as she sat down opposite her mother wondering why Mr. Jones chose such an imbecile of an assistant who could not even recognize the after affects of a poisonous drug, mild as they were.

"Oh bless you my child," Mrs. Bennet shrieked as Elizabeth sat in front of her at the table without making a move to eat anything, "you shall have a very grand wedding and a very handsome husband indeed."

"Mama," Elizabeth shrieked as well, "I shall not marry George Darcy."

"Nonsense, my dear," Mrs. Bennet waved a hand in the air and the kidney stuck in her fork flew off to slap against the crystal cherub on the mantle piece, "besides, you cannot say no, you were **compromised."**

"I was **not **compromised," Elizabeth hastily got off the table without finishing her breakfast, the mere thought of any kind of food was revolting to her just then, "and I beg you not to say that again."

"Oh I shan't," Mrs. Bennet smiled knowingly, "Mr. Darcy has briefed me on that. What a well looking family and so rich…hm."

Elizabeth stared at her mother in exasperation as her head throbbed painfully and turned towards the door.

"I shall go and talk to Papa," she told her mother in passing, "and put an end to this hoax at once."

Elizabeth detected a sudden note of sadness on her mother's face before Mrs. Bennet launched into a speech of why it would be useless to go and talk to Mr. Bennet, but Elizabeth ignored her and made her way to the library quickly. It was imperative that she clarified everything to her father before the Darcys arrived. She knocked at his library door, and entered after hearing him grunt.

"Papa," she cried as soon as she saw him sitting in a chair near the window, instead of his usual place by the writing table with a book in his hand. Today his hands were empty, as were his eyes as he looked up at her, "Papa, what is Mama saying? You cannot seriously be considering my marriage to Mr. George Darcy."

She blanched at the slight hardening around his eyes, he had never looked at her quite like that before, with disappointment and disapproval.

"And you cannot seriously be thinking that there is any other way for you to redeem yourself in my eyes," he said coldly and Elizabeth stopped in mid-step as she was advancing towards him.

"Redeem myself," she asked incredulously, "what have I to redeem myself for? Surely Papa, you cannot believe that…that…that vile person."

"No, Elizabeth," he got up and stepped away from his chair facing her squarely, "but I can however, believe my own eyes, and they have shown me a truth about my daughter that I was unaware of heretofore."

Elizabeth stared at him with eyes wide with shock, _'can it be that Papa, __**my Papa, **__believe George over me?'_

"Papa," she said in a choked voice, "what you saw was not the truth, it was a devious fabrication concocted by George Darcy."

"How so," Mr. Bennet stood still, but his voice bespoke a great agitation of mind, "it did not look as though he was forcing himself upon you? You seemed like a willing participant, Elizabeth."

"But I was not," she cried now as she moved nearer to him, "and stop calling me Elizabeth, I am Lizzy to you."

"Keep your voice down Elizabeth," he was obviously not thinking straight, Elizabeth tried to hold his hand but he took a step back, "and explain to me why, if you were not willingly allowing him liberties, were you hanging **on** to him?"

"He had drugged me Papa," she now had tears in her eyes, "I felt weak."

"I know that you have a rather fertile imagination," Mr. Bennet looked severely at her as he folded his arms on his chest, "but this is too farfetched even for you."

"But he did Papa," she further advanced towards him, but Mr. Bennet held up a hand to halt her movement. She took a deep breath and continued as she remembered the previous night, "he put something in my drink, why else would I faint?"

"If you did, at all," he mocked and Elizabeth felt as though someone had slapped her.

"Y-you…you think that I pretended to become unconscious when actually I was in full command of my senses?" She asked incredulously. Was what happened in the library at the Netherfield hall really so horrible that now her father was attributing misconduct as well as deceit to her? She could not believe her ears, could not believe how she was being reduced to a woman on the street, how her word had lost all honour, and all that had happened in just one night. Mr. Bennet stayed resolutely quiet as she stared at him in astonishment. "Papa please," she begged as she inched closer to Mr. Bennet, "did you not see me get sick, do you really think that I could fake a vomit as well?"

"Perhaps you really did take something that did not suit with you," he conceded at last and Elizabeth felt her hope rise once again, "but as the apothecary said, it was something you ate, not a poisonous drug."

"Papa, it is me," she whispered crushed under the burden of his mistrust, "your own Lizzy, how can you believe this of me?"

"From the moment I saw you in such an intimate embrace with that scoundrel, and gladly too," Mr. Bennet's stony façade started to crumble as his voice cracked, "I lost sense of what to believe and what not to believe." His shoulders sagged, and his eyes misted, "you stopped being my Lizzy in that moment."

"No, Papa," she cried as she threw herself at him, "No. He staged it, he planned it," she wept heavily on his coat while he stood in the middle of the library without moving, "he wanted to punish me. I do not love him. I did not do anything Papa." Her voice dwindled down as her body got wracked with uncontrollable sobs.

Suddenly she felt Mr. Bennet move away. Through the fog of her tears, she could see his resolution written plainly on his face. He had chosen to believe the mirage his eyes saw, the mirage of George's creation, the mirage of her downfall. She wiped her face with the back of her hands and raised her neck as she looked towards him.

"Is this your final decision?" She asked, her eyes begging him to understand, to believe, to trust her.

"Yes."

"Do you not wonder at the coincidence of you and Mama following me to the library at such an opportune moment?" She asked sarcastically.

"There is no coincidence there," he said firmly, "Miss Bingley informed your Mama of your condition and I joined her when I observed her going out of the ballroom." He stopped and stared at her disbelieving countenance for a moment before continuing in an annoyed tone, "I hope you do not think that Miss Bingley was also a party to George Darcy's infamous plan of compromising you?"

"Of course not," she said quickly. Miss Bingley might have been spiteful towards her on occasion but there certainly was no animosity between them to merit such an act of revenge.

"Then it is settled," he said as he turned his back towards her, "The Darcy's shall be here any moment now, so prepare yourself to be proposed to and **to accept.** Now I shall like to have this room to myself." With that, he quietly walked to his writing desk, leaving a crushed Elizabeth no choice but to exit the library.

* * *

Elizabeth stared at the windows of the library at Longbourn as she sat on a bench in the lawn with George Darcy by her side. She knew that both her father and Mr. Darcy were ensconced in that room discussing when, where and how the wedding between her and George Darcy would occur, regardless of what her thoughts were on the subject. She still felt slightly numb from her conference with Mr. Bennet and also the lingering effects of whatever had been put into her drink, and failed therefore to notice the agitation of the man who sat next to her.

"Elizabeth," he called her and she was jerked from her morose thoughts, she turned to look at him and found his blue eyes affixed to her face in a somewhat alarmed manner, "how are you?"

She marveled at the nerve of him. After ruining her life, he still had the gall to face her with such confidence and self assurance, for that is how he must feel and this air of slight hesitation could be nothing but a front he had put on to deceive her yet again.

"How do you think," she questioned him in turn, bitingly, "should a woman be, who finds herself on the brink of getting engaged to a man who deliberately tried to compromise her in front of her parents?" She saw him wince then, but his pain was not her consolation.

"I…I was wrong," he dropped his head, "but believe me Elizabeth, that I had no idea that your father would come to the library," he suddenly raised his head and looked earnestly at her.

"But you knew that my mother was coming," she accused him, "do not take me for a fool. What was your plan, to ruin my reputation in front of the whole of Meryton and then deny any culpability?" Her voice shook with suppressed anger, this devious man was responsible for a life time of wretchedness that lay ahead of her.

Elizabeth saw him grow pale and had the proof she needed. Outraged, she jumped off the bench and started pacing in front of him.

"Why," she cried as she wrung her hands, "what had I done to deserve such cruelty? Was it because I slapped you, tell me true?" She stopped in front of him, her eyes blazing, in a half crazed state.

He averted his eyes, and again his silence spoke louder than any words could have. She stared at him in abhorrence.

"You have had your revenge," when she spoke her voice was low, but it shook with hatred, "my family thinks I am a wanton, shameless woman who seeks gratification at the hands of strange men. I do not care if the whole world finds out, nothing can be worse than my own father not believing me." She looked at his pale countenance and knew that his answer to what she was about to ask him had the potential of making or breaking her, "I want you to go to my father and tell him that it was your fault." Elizabeth watched him without breathing, waiting to see if he would agree.

"I cannot," he jumped up and came to stand in front of her, "besides, it would not make any difference. Your mother is silent only because she thinks we shall marry, if she even had a hint of any reluctance on my part, she will announce it to the whole of Hertfordshire."

"What is it to you?" Elizabeth asked stubbornly, "I have told you that I do not care about what the world says, I just want to be proved innocent in the eyes of my father."

"And your sisters," he said bending towards her, his voice lowering down as well, "what about their future prospects, would they not be marred because of this?" Elizabeth felt even the last of her hopes slipping. He was right, if this got out, her sisters would probably have to suffer lonely lives, with no prospects. But Elizabeth was not ready to give up quite so easily.

"Will you tell my father the truth or not?" She asked him desperately now, her eyes pleading with him to do it.

"He shall never believe me," George Darcy told her in exasperation, "he saw it Elizabeth and Mr. Bennet believes what he saw."

Elizabeth's face paled. She took two unstable steps and then sat down on the bench with a thud. George followed and stood looking at her in concern. She thought of how her father had disregarded her explanation and mistrusted her word not even an hour ago, and she knew that George was right. Her father, her family was lost to her. She was alone, all alone.

"Elizabeth, I know that our situation is not exactly ideal," he said softly as he took a seat next to her, "but I am ready to make amends. I shall take care of you, I shall make you happy."

"Why?" She raised eyes, that had lost all their luster, to his hopeful countenance as she asked him a simple question. She failed to understand why he was showing so much concern for her and her family, why he had taken it upon himself to restore her reputation and why he had agreed to marry her when his only object in pursuing her was to have her, never to marry her.

"Because I love you," he said simply.

Elizabeth stared at him blankly for a moment before a dry chuckle burst forth from her. It was an odd sound, one that she had never heard before, a derisive sound that spoke of disbelief as much as a severe disturbance of mind.

"If this is your way of trying to make everything lighter than congratulations," she mocked, "it has worked."

"No, Elizabeth," he slipped closer towards her as he made an attempt to take her hand but she quickly held it up to stop him. He sighed and then continued in a seemingly sincere tone, "unfortunately I only realized it at an inopportune moment. But this whole episode has made me appreciate how important you are to me and how happy it would make me to have you as a wife."

Elizabeth stared at him, unable to believe the words she had just heard. Her mind was still entangled in the stern countenance, and unrelenting stance of her father, to have George Darcy profess his love was a little too much for her. Her life had changed so drastically in the span of less than a day that she was having difficulty breathing let alone processing it.

"Ask me then," she said in a dull, faraway voice, "and let us be done with it."

Elizabeth looked at him as he slipped off the bench and onto his knee, without seeing anything but the face of the person who had killed any chance of future happiness or present content for her. All that remained were the pleasant memories of a past, which apparently would not benefit her in any way in the life that was to come.

"Elizabeth Bennet," he continued with a relived smile, "will you marry me?"

Elizabeth's eyes wandered off towards the windows of the library, perhaps her father was watching her, perhaps he would come and stop this nonsense, and perhaps he would believe her yet. But these were all vain hopes and futile wishes, her father had all but disowned her, she turned her gaze back towards the handsome face of the man on his knees in front of her, this man was the one who was going to decide her fate from now on.

"Yes," she said tonelessly and observed the spread of colour on his face and the sudden glow in his eyes.

"You have made me the happiest man alive Elizabeth," he got up from his knee and Elizabeth stared at the small patch of mud on his breeches, "you shall not regret this, I swear you shall not."

She looked up at him and wondered how his face, that she had thought beautiful at one point, had turned so ugly and loathsome.

"Do not call me Elizabeth again, **ever." **She rasped.

George Darcy stared at her in surprise and she stared back until he cowered and his eyes dropped. Elizabeth got up then, and started walking towards the house as the spark of life in her heart died and gave life to another one, the spark of hate, unadulterated and all consuming.

* * *

Darcy watched George's exuberance in silence as they sat together at the breakfast table at Netherfield Park while the rest of the house slept. George kept talking between mouthfuls of how amazing Miss Elizabeth was and how lucky he thought himself to be that he had found her. Darcy was having a difficult time eating as his brother went on and on about the various charms of his wife to be, but never once showed any remorse at his behaviour on the previous night. Darcy had always known that George was not of a strong moral fiber, but he had not expected him to be this careless and nonchalant about almost bringing the Darcy family name to ruin.

He took the last sip of his tea and stood up. George eagerly followed him out to the carriage and before long they were being ushered inside Mr. Bennet's library by the same maid who had, almost a month ago, told Darcy to go to the back of the house where Miss Lizzy waited for him. He braced himself as the door shut behind them, Mr. Bennet seemed to be in a dark mood, and although what happened last night was no fault of his, he still felt responsible for George's actions in some way.

"Mr. Bennet," George began with his usual confidence, after they had settled down on high backed chairs opposite Mr. Bennet, with his writing table between them, but a stern look from the elderly gentleman silenced him.

"Let us not waste time on formalities," he said frankly, "I do not want to hear your apologies, even if you want to make them. Go outside to the lawn and my daughter shall join you there." Darcy saw relief spread on George's face and could not help thinking that it would have done George well if Mr. Bennet had made him squirm a little. As his brother stood up to leave, Mr. Bennet's voice stopped him, "keep your hands where I can see them through the window young man, for I ran out of all my patience yesterday."

Darcy did not look up to see how George's received this **threat, **but he felt his own colour mount slightly with embarrassment.

"Now to the business at hand, Mr. Darcy," Mr. Bennet looked directly at him and Darcy cursed inside, '_why do I have to carry on a conversation that has nothing to do with me?'_ He thought irritably but maintained a calm façade on the outside. "I am assuming that you are the decision maker in the Darcy family," he said weighing him with his eyes, "then I shall come straight to the point, when do you want the wedding?"

Darcy was slightly taken aback. For he had not given it much thought, but considering George's mercurial nature, he thought it better if the wedding took place within the month. Who knew when George changed his mind and went careening off to God knows where. His mind made up, he looked up with complete composure.

"Within the month, if it suits you."

"It does," Mr. Bennet said gravely, "I hope you are not averse to having it here?"

"I…," Darcy hesitated a little and then asked, "would it not be better if it took place in London? I cannot stay here much longer but nor do I want to leave George here alone. I hope you understand my need to keep an eye on him until the wedding."

"But why London," Mr. Bennet asked, "you can leave now, with your brother, and then come back for the wedding?"

"My relatives might not be able to attend if it happens anywhere other than the town, currently," he told him thinking of the importance of his Uncle the Earl attending the ceremony, "and we cannot have a wedding without my Uncle."

"Fine," he conceded with a shrug of his shoulders, "London it is then. Besides Elizabeth and her mother have to go there for her trousseau in any case. I shall join them before the wedding."

"It is settled then," Darcy breathed a sigh of relief, "the couple in question would also like to spend the time leading up to their marriage in each other's company, so that shall also be advantageous." Mr. Bennet's jaw hardened and Darcy felt slightly foolish at uttering so tactless a statement.

"Now I shall need to know about the financial condition of your brother," he said in a matter of fact manner, "I, as you know, can only provide little for my daughter."

"George has a considerable inheritance," Darcy told him, thankful that his father was not one of those people who felt the necessity of devolving everything they owned on the first son, and therefore had left George well provided for, "enough to last him through his life, **if **used prudently." George had been anything but prudent in the use of his inheritance, so far, but the amount was too much to be swindled away quickly even by George. "He also has a living to his name, Krenmoral Abbey, in Cheshire, near Runcorn, but he can only take its full possession when he gets married, till then the profits from it are collected and are held safely for whenever he decides to marry. It is a considerable estate and leaves my brother without the necessity of any employment. It was left to him by an Aunt of my mother's and my Uncle, the Earl of Matlock is the caretaker of the profits."

"Right," Mr. Bennet, he observed, though angry at his daughter, was likewise interested in her well being, "and the wedding settlements?"

"They are also ample, and shall, I hope be satisfactory to both you and **your daughter,"** he tried to keep any bitter note out of his voice but knew that his eyes might have betrayed him if Mr. Bennet had been looking at him, but he was staring outside the window.

Darcy followed his gaze and stiffened when it fell upon the couple sitting side by side on a bench in the lawn. He stared at them for a long moment before getting up and moving towards the window to take a better look since Mr. Bennet had pointedly taken up a book, which meant that he either did not have or did not want to say anything to him.

He observed their interaction with fascinated interest. And even though their expressions were not exactly clear, it was apparent that the conversation was not a pleasant one. But then George dropped down on his knee and Miss Elizabeth turned her eyes to him and the heartfelt joy on his face was visible even to Darcy. He sighed and decided that it was time they left, for after imparting their news to the Bingley household, they had to travel back to London as well. He bid Mr. Bennet adieu amidst confirmation that he would dispatch a message to Darcy House in London as soon as Miss Elizabeth left for ton.

As Darcy walked towards the main door of the house, it was suddenly thrown open and Miss Elizabeth entered with a quick step, halting at the sight of him. For a few moments they just stood there staring at each other. He could see the disturbance of her mind in her features as he looked deeply into her eyes. They seemed different somehow, and yet it was not possible but their sparkling amber colour had turned to a stranger, darker shade that was slightly alarming.

"Why, Mr. Darcy," She asked him in a voice that was trying to suppress numerous emotions, "why are you letting this happen?"

"It is the natural course of things after what took place in the Netherfield library, Miss Elizabeth," he told her calmly, when inside he wanted to ask her the same question, and many others besides.

"What natural course," she asked angrily, "what things? Why would anyone not listen to me?"

"Pardon me Miss Elizabeth, but if you had heard the saying 'actions speak louder than words'," he looked at her coldly then, _'what could be the meaning of such deliberate pretense,' _he thought in irritation, _'does she think that she can convince me of her innocence by pretending to be indignant when she must be rejoicing on her success?' _"you would have known that, that is precisely what is being done."

She stared at him for a moment in disbelief and then it was as though the fire went out of her.

"Oh, I see," she said in a dull, lackluster voice, "so like my father, you also believe what your eyes saw."

"I was not aware that anything else could exceed the witness of your own eyes in authenticity," he looked carefully at her to see how she would counter that.

"Sometimes there is," she said looking directly into his eyes, "and it is the prior knowledge of a person's character."

Darcy was stunned, he certainly had not given it much thought. But if he thought realistically, then what did he know about her? The few meetings and arguments that they had, only told him that she was witty, self-assured and beautiful, this was not enough to give a verdict on the strength of her character. On the other hand, her being caught in the arms of his brother was proof enough of her guilt. He stood quietly, but firmly opposite her_, _his eyes unrelenting.

"But if my own father has unconditionally accepted the facts on mere face value," she shrugged her delicate shoulders in indifference, "then I certainly cannot expect you to be anything other than positive about my blameworthiness in the matter." She quickly stepped past him then and opened the door of her father's library, but did not make any move to enter.

"I have done as you dictated, Papa," she said in a loud and clear voice as Darcy turned around to look at her profile, "I hope you are happy with everything." No sound other than a slight rustling of paper could be heard in the eerily quiet entrance of Longbourn. "my only wish now is to **die **and not be here to see you **regret** this decision every single day, for the rest of your life."

Her voice cracked in the end as she bolted up the stairs leaving an astonished Darcy behind. Her words were hair-raising to him somehow. He quickly turned around and almost ran out of the door, the oppression of the moment too much for him to bear.

As he stepped outside the house, he encountered George, in a pensive mood, but Darcy was in no state to ask him how his interview with the fiery Miss Elizabeth went. He just wanted to be away from Longbourn, form Hertfordshire, from the fickle woman who was putting up such a show for no reason. With a quick step, therefore, they mounted the carriage and were at Netherfield Park before long where they found Bingley and Miss Bingley sitting in the morning parlour, but no Mr. and Mrs. Hurst to be found.

"Congratulate me Bingley," George quickly came to the point as he sat besides Miss Bingley. Darcy kept standing near the window, "I have gotten engaged to Miss Bennet."

Darcy watched in slight amusement as Bingley's eyes widened comically in alarm.

"M-Miss Bennet?" He gulped in disbelief.

"There is no need to look so wounded old chap," George chirped and Darcy was sure that he had done this on purpose, "I mean Miss Elizabeth Bennet."

Bingley's expressions changed with rapidity from horror to relief and then irritation at George's conscious slip, to extreme surprise.

"I…, well…congratulations," he said hesitantly and then looked questioningly at Darcy. He could do nothing but shrug.

"I thank you," George returned happily and then turned towards Miss Bingley who seemed to be carved in stone, "Miss Bingley, would you like to take a stroll about the garden with me before we leave for ton?"

"Of course," she said mechanically and both of them left the room.

"Look here Darcy," Bingley quickly approached Darcy by the window, "is it true?"

"Indeed it is."

"And…but," Bingley floundered a bit before finding his voice again, "and what we heard in the billiards room?"

"Apparently he had a change of heart," Darcy said indifferently while his frustration with his brother and his intended's behaviour increased once again, _'change of heart, indeed.'_

"And perhaps so did Miss Elizabeth," Bingley said thoughtfully.

"What do you mean?" Darcy turned sharply towards him as both of them made their way towards the chairs and settled down.

"Well, you might have noticed that she was always trying to avoid him."

"Indeed I did," Darcy said sarcastically, "but it appears that it was only a ploy on her part to have his attention fixed more intently on her."

"Come man," Bingley waved a hand in the air as if to disregard what Darcy had just said, "she is not an artful woman."

"Nor are we experts on what goes on in the pretty little heads of the female folk," Darcy said gravely.

"Ahem," Bingley cleared his throat and looked apprehensively towards his friend, "about that. I have been meaning to seek your advice on something." Darcy looked intensely towards his friend and knew instantly what was on Bingley's mind.

"About Miss Bennet?" He asked with confidence.

"Yes," Bingley replied somewhat sheepishly, "I…I should like to ask for her hand in marriage."

"Oh," was all the reply Darcy could muster. The Bennets were not an ideal family, but if the Darcys of Pemberley could marry into them, then why not Bingley.

"So…so…do you think I should ask soon?" Bingley looked at him with a hopeful expression.

"If your mind is made up."

"Without a shadow of a doubt," Bingley said squaring his shoulders, "but I am not yet certain about her regard for me, what do you suggest I should do?"

"I would not like to see you make a fool of yourself Bingley," Darcy said firmly, "in case you are in any doubt of her feelings, you had better wait till she makes them clear."

"But she is so uniformly charming Darcy," Bingley said in exasperation, "how am I ever to be certain if she loves me or is merely being polite?"

"Do not be ridiculous Bingley," Darcy smiled despite himself at his friend's silliness, "love can never be mistaken for politeness or the other way around. Depend upon it, that when she truly feels something for you, you shall **know."** Bingley still looked slightly skeptical, Darcy looked carefully at him and continued, "I however would not have thought you two to be a good match."

"How do you mean?" Bingley looked confused, "she is an excellent creature, perfect in every way."

"Except her social standing and relations," Darcy said lightly, his tired mind not really interested anymore whether Bingley married into the Bennets or not.

"You know such things have never mattered to me," Bingley was quick to ignore his implication, "my own father made his fortune in trade, and if by unsuitable relations you mean her mother than I must say that I have some equally unsuitable relations as well. No Darcy, my only concern is Miss Bennet's regard or lack thereof for me."

"Then take your time to ascertain it, but do not hesitate anymore once you are positive," Darcy told him mildly and then got up to get ready for the journey beck to London, "we had better start, the hour gets late."

* * *

George stared at Elizabeth's retreating form with mixed feelings. He knew that she was unhappy now, but was also sure that hers was not the kind of resentment that could not be done away with careful attention and passage of time. Her outburst at the end of their interview made him realize that she was not yet ready for any kind of intimacy with him, therefore he must curtail the impulses of new found love.

He stood up and took a few steps rather awkwardly, not knowing what to do with the unexpected knowledge of being in love, without any sign of a return. George had always found himself to be more the object of admiration then censure, the former came from his peers and the ladies, the latter from Darcy and the rest of his family. It was somehow strange for him that the girl he had selected to be his companion for the rest of his life, instead of considering herself lucky, was being unreasonably miserable.

The selfish streak in his nature had blinded him to the deception and the subsequent insensitivity in his actions, leading him to think that he should not be resented for trying to compromise Elizabeth, but applauded for readily agreeing to marry her. The soft spoken and intelligent boy that was the apple of Lady Anne Darcy's eye had gotten lost somewhere along the way from boyhood to manhood, he instead got replaced by a still soft spoken but now somewhat cunning young man, who appealed more to the eyes and less to the senses.

He looked up to find Darcy hurrying out and they quickly mounted the carriage to be on their way back to Netherfield and then London. Once at Netherfield, he wasted no time in imparting his news to his hosts, taking pleasure in Bingley's bewilderment as he consciously left out the name of his betrothed, and called her only Miss Bennet. But these frivolities could wait, he had to deal with Miss Bingley first, for her surprised countenance told him that she was not happy with his news.

"I can see that you are surprised, Miss Bingley," he began tentatively as the two of them walked the grounds before his departure.

"Can you fault me for being so?" She looked archly at him. She was a pretty specimen of the female form that Miss Bingley, even though her eyes were too small for his taste.

"Of course not Miss Bingley," he smirked at her and she blinked uncomprehendingly back in confusion, "your only fault lies in helping me get Miss Elizabeth to the library." She paled, but he admired her composure for she did not lose her step.

"Because you…," she hesitated but then continued, "even though it was beneath me, I only endeavoured to help you for the good of my brother. He needed to see the Bennets for what they truly are. If I had any idea that you were using me to further some game of your own, I would never…," she left the sentence unfinished, her breathing became laboured, as her colour heightened.

"Forgive me Miss Bingley," he was all pretentious insincerity as he looked down at her, "I realized the folly of my actions and decided to propose instead."

"You have used me quite ill Mr. George," she looked sideways at him, her small brown eyes giving her a shrewd look, "I might be compelled to inform Mr. Darcy of your dealings."

"You mean **our **dealings," George said smugly as he noticed the colour leaving her face once again, "do not forget Miss Bingley," they turned around to return to the house, "that disguise of every sort is my brother's abhorrence, he might marry a tradesman's daughter, but not if she was guilty of some deception."

George had measured every word before uttering it since it was necessary to scare the clever woman walking with him, without exactly crushing her hopes. He had only been able to convert Miss Bingley to his cause by dangling the bait of William in front of her and he doubted not, therefore, that she would not hesitate to tell on him if she found out that his brother would never marry her.

"It has been a pleasure spending so much of my time here at Hertfordshire with you Miss Bingley," he bowed and smiled. A smile no woman except Elizabeth could resist, "I do not know what I would have done without you." He grabbed her hand as she stood numbly in front of him and kissed it, before moving inside the house to change for the journey back home.

* * *

**A/N: **In this story I have tried to stay true to Elizabeth and Darcy's original personality, except that I have, in a way, swapped their faults of pride and prejudice. Where Elizabeth was prejudiced in the original, I have made Darcy more so here and where Darcy was proud in Pride and Prejudice, I have (in a way) made Elizabeth so, though not of the things he was. Elizabeth is aware of her self-worth and conscious of her self-respect and does not forget insults easily, but this side of her character is going to emerge much later in the story.

I have mentioned already that some characters are going to be OOC and this might be irritating to the diehard fans of the original (me being one of them), but the problem with fanfiction is that when you borrow characters from another author's work, no matter how hard you try, they are bound to behave differently at some point or another. So if the difference in the canon and my versions has hurt anyone's sensibilities, I am sorry for it. Please know that I had not meant to tarnish the original, just to play around a little with the characters in order to suit this plot. Imitating Jane Austen's perfection is impossible anyways.

*I would like to thank DannieRaRa for pointing out a major flaw in the last chapter and even though I have tried to correct it in this one, it still is not what it should have been, but thanks anyways.

*This chapter, for obvious reasons, was loaded with depressing dialogue and thought process, but all that will be minimized from next chapter onwards.

*Thank you everyone who reads and reviews, it means A LOT.

*The updates might not remain as timely as they have been so far as I am moving house and will probably not have access to internet for a few days. I also won't be able to reply to the reviews. I hope therefore that this chapter is not a cliffhanger for the readers.

**Next Chapter: To London**


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11: To London**

Elizabeth blamed her lack of sleep on the journey from Longbourn to London on the incessant clip-clop of the horse's hooves, the grating of the wheels on the roads and the constant commentary of her mother on their good fortune. But she was wrong, of course, for previously she had always found the clip-clop somewhat soothing, the wheels hardly made any noise and her mother had gone to sleep after only half an hour on the road. The absence of any sleep was all due to the disturbance of her mind.

She stared outside at the sun, that still shone brightly, and thought of the manner in which she had taken leave of her family, well her sisters to be precise, as Mr. Bennet had not shown any interest or inclination in bidding her adieu. It had not been a teary farewell, for they were to meet again in a little less than four weeks time, for the wedding, but it was fraught with a certain amount of sadness.

The day that she had gotten engaged had been the most surreal day of her life. After her outburst at the door of Mr. Bennet's library, she had ran up the stairs to her room and thrown herself on her bed in a fit of anger, but this time no tears were to come. Elizabeth had promised herself that never again would she cry for the loss of her father's regard, for he **chose **not to trust her when he could have done the opposite and saved himself from the agony that now obviously consumed him, and her from a lifetime of misery that she was to bear at the hands of George Darcy. So she had lain there on the bed, her body taut and her eyes tightly shut against the grief that threatened to span the rest of her life.

This was how she had been discovered by Jane, who had ran up the stairs to be with her as soon as Mrs. Bennet had broken the news of Elizabeth's engagement. Jane's shock, her grief, her compassion and her subsequent attempt to show George Darcy in some kind of positive light was just the cure that Elizabeth's wounded pride and heart needed. Here at last was someone who would always believe her, no matter what the inducement to do otherwise. As Jane had held her in a soft embrace, rocking her back and forth to soothe her obviously agitated nerves, Elizabeth had decided that she would marry George Darcy for Jane if for nothing else.

Elizabeth stared at her hands, tired of staring outside the carriage window without seeing anything. The thought of running away to her Uncle's house or perhaps to the Trents in Torquay had crossed her mind, but doing that might cause more injury to her sisters than she would like to think, not to mention severely damage the chance of Jane marrying Mr. Bingley. She might be impulsive and impertinent, but whatever the faults of her personality might be, selfishness was not one of them, therefore marry George she would, no matter how loathsome the thought was to her mind.

She thought of Longbourn and her father and found it difficult to breathe. Mr. Bennet's decision had hurt her in every possible way. Every time she thought of the sudden hardening of his eyes as mistrust and disappointment replaced dependence and affection, she felt her heart contract painfully. But the thing most hurt in the whole affair was her **pride;** the thought of how easy it was for George Darcy to make a fool of her and easier still for her own father to take her involvement in the whole sordid mess for granted, was a deep blow to her self-respect. To be married off to a person, in no way deserving of her hand let alone her regard, was mortifying to her ego in the extreme and finding no way out of the situation had left her with a constant sense of being wronged somehow.

Not many people knew this but Elizabeth had a deep sense of self-worth and could act quite stubbornly if she thought herself to be right in a matter. She had, therefore, left Longbourn with no thought of ever coming back, no matter what the reason and had been adamant to reciprocate her father's unyielding behaviour with the same herself. It had been difficult, but she wanted him to realize the error in his judgment of her. Like father; like daughter.

Evening had dawned when they reached Gracechurch Street in Cheapside, London. Elizabeth was, in a way, glad that her father had sent her to London within two days of the **incident, **for it had become very difficult for her to keep on living under the same roof with him when his feelings towards her were so altered. Besides, the Gardiners were open-minded and kind people who, she had faith, would pay her the courtesy of believing her, even though there was nothing else that they could do.

"Lizzy," The Gardiners eldest daughter Julia was the first to run out to greet them, with Michael in tow. The youngest Tom walked on wobbly legs to meet them a little shyly which, Elizabeth was soon to know, was only a front until he knew them better (and the three year old boy only needed a few minutes to know them completely).

"How grown he looks," Elizabeth looked fondly at Tom after they had settled down in the front parlour as he stood playing with her dress.

"Of course he does," Mrs. Bennet smiled at her, "it has been far too long since we last met, brother," she looked towards Mr. Gardiner, "but that is all to be done away now that Lizzy and I are here for almost a month and she is to be married from here."

"Indeed," Mr. Gardiner smiled pleasantly, "we are glad that Lizzy is to be married from here, that shall give us the oppourtunity of getting to spend a lot of our time with her."

"But it all happened so suddenly," Mrs. Gardiner looked at Elizabeth to gauge her reaction, "we were quite astonished when Mr. Bennet's letter arrived."

"Well," Mrs. Bennet smiled triumphantly at everyone in general, "Mr. George Darcy took **such **a fancy to my Lizzy, that he simply could not resist her charms," here she winked at Elizabeth, to her utter mortification, "and so Mr. Bennet thought it better to have them marry, before they do something…bold," this was again accompanied by a wink followed by a smirk and a shrill laughter.

The Gardiners looked rather stunned at this speech and turned towards Elizabeth with several questions in their eyes, which she only answered by averting her own. Mrs. Bennet had now jumped on to Jane and Mr. Bingley and was only lamenting Jane's foolishness in not being able to make herself just as irresistible in Mr. Bingley's eyes as Elizabeth was in Mr. George Darcy's.

Amidst such irresistible conversation some light refreshments were served, to last them until dinner and then Mr. Gardiner suggested that he should take Mrs. Bennet upstairs to the guestroom allocated to her. As Elizabeth started to get up Mrs. Gardiner quickly placed her hand on Elizabeth's to stop her from going while Mrs. Bennet twittered away on the arm of her brother.

"I should very much like to talk with you before you retire Lizzy," Mrs. Gardiner looked carefully at her, "but I shall not detain you if you would rather rest first."

"Have you not heard dear Aunt," Elizabeth mocked, "there is no rest for the wicked?"

"Are you happy with this engagement, Lizzy?" She asked her after sending the children away to the nursery. Elizabeth sighed, _'happy, she was no more happy than she was a monkey.'_

**"No," **she replied firmly and saw Mrs. Gardiner pale.

"Then why did you consent to it," she cried, "I know that the Darcys are a very well known and remarkably rich family, but if there is no love between you and your betrothed, then it is all for naught?"

"I did not consent to it," Elizabeth said tonelessly as she turned away to look at the street through the window, "it is being forced upon me."

"I cannot believe this," Mrs. Gardiner's voice bespoke shock at Elizabeth's declaration, "Mr. Bennet would never do this to **you,** of all people."

"And yet he is doing this to me," she grated on every word, "of all people." Elizabeth could not have believed this of her father either, but it turned out that both she and her father were wrong about each other.

"Lizzy please be explicit," Mrs. Gardiner tugged at Elizabeth's sleeve to make her turn her face back towards her, "I am afraid I fail to understand you."

"You are not the only one," Elizabeth said sarcastically, her anger at what had happened to her coming to the fore again. Not only did her father take it for granted that she had been cavorting with George in the library, but Mr. Darcy thought the same. Granted that he had not known her long, but they had interacted and exchanged opinions enough times for him to know where she stood on the topic of his brother, and yet he failed to see through his brother's farce as well. It was humiliating in the extreme.

"Lizzy," Mrs. Gardiner admonished and Elizabeth took a deep breath and launched into a recital of the events, beginning from the day that she first saw George. She told Mrs. Gardiner of her unease in his company, and then how she overheard him outside the billiards room and finally the happenings in the library at Netherfield Park. Mrs. Gardiner's face looked quite pale with surprise at her narration and she breathed only when Elizabeth finally stopped talking.

"I…I…," she stuttered, "it is so difficult to believe all this."

"I am sure," said Elizabeth as she got up from her seat and walked up to the window, "but it is still more difficult to live **all this."**

"Oh you poor thing," she dropped her head on her hands, "but it is so unlike Mr. Bennet."

"Not very," she shrugged her shoulders as she moved the curtain a bit to look outside at the street, "you think this because you have never seen him in a similar situation before. My father is a man quite confident of his ability to discern, and thus the result."

"And a Darcy to be so very bad," Mrs. Gardiner looked up from her hands at Elizabeth's back, "their family seat, Pemberley is but five miles from the town I grew up in, and they always had an impeccable reputation."

"Sometimes a good family name hides a bad character, quite successfully," she mused looking absently at the two young girls playing with each other's plaits in the street, "and I am sure that Mr. Darcy is always busy covering his younger brother's tracks in order to save the said family name."

"Do you mean to say that he has done this sort of thing before?" Mrs. Gardiner asked incredulously.

"Mr. Darcy did say something to this effect when he found us in the library," Elizabeth closed her eyes momentarily to ward off the mortification she could not help but feel every time she thought of how she must have appeared to everyone on that night, "and I suspect he came to Hertfordshire not to stop his brother from marrying me, but to stop him from stirring yet another scandal."

"You seem quite decided that Mr. George Darcy is a hopeless case," Mrs. Gardiner said mildly, "but do not forget that he might have backed out of the whole thing if he had so chosen, but he instead decided to stand by you."

"Only because I was perhaps the only woman he had been unable to lay his hands on," Elizabeth turned around sharply, her eyes ablaze with anger, "he realizes that marriage is the only way that he could ever have me, and thus his pretense at doing the gentlemanly thing, when the reality is far from it."

"Come," Mrs. Gardiner gestured for her to come to her, "sit by me." Elizabeth moved to sit by her a bit stiffly. "My dear, this is the man that you are going to spend the rest of your life with," Elizabeth blanched at that as her future stretched out in front of her like a dark, cold night, "would it not be better to try and think well of him, instead of dwelling on what he did wrong?"

"I cannot separate the two," she said adamantly, her chin jutting out in defiance, "to me he would always stand for what he did and not what he is, though there is not much difference, I assure you."

"You shall have to, Lizzy," Mrs. Gardiner reasoned softly, "otherwise there will be no peace for you in your coming life."

"He mortified me in front of my father," Elizabeth's eyes shone with unshed tears that she held in check only because she had promised herself that she would never cry for either George or her father, "no words, no actions shall ever be enough to heal my injured pride."

"Happiness and pride can never exist together," Mrs. Gardiner said gravely, "you shall have to choose one."

"Then I choose my pride," Elizabeth cried with fervour, "my self-respect, my belief in myself. Besides, happiness would always remain out of my reach now."

"No dearest," Mrs. Gardiner shook her head at her, "he is not wholly lost to the vices of the world, if so, he would never have told you that he loves you. You must take it from there and build up on that."

"And forget everything else?" She said skeptically, **"that,** I am afraid, shall **not** be possible for me."

"Lizzy, Mr. Bennet has told us in his letter that he has also sent an express to Mr. Darcy informing him of your arrival in town, and if not tomorrow then the day after, Mr. George Darcy shall come to visit you," Elizabeth scowled but Mrs. Bennet continued, "from whatever you have imparted and what I have guessed from Mr. Bennet's letter, Mr. George is going to visit you often. It would therefore be better, if you try to get to know him anew, instead of cherishing your preconceived notions for the rest of your life."

"I cannot look past the disservice that he has done me," Elizabeth told her truthfully and frankly, "and my opinion of him is not preconceived notions, it is **fact."**

"But you shall have to," she said in exasperation, "your resentment is justified, he is not a man to be easily trusted, but you do not have a choice my dear. You can either hate him and be miserable for the rest of your life or make an effort towards understanding why, with good breeding and a good family behind him did he turn out to be this way. And once you have figured that out, maybe you can work on improving him, you who are so good, so strong yourself, Lizzy, maybe he just needs someone like you to help him overcome his character deficiencies."

"You do us both great credit, my dear Aunt," Elizabeth smiled fully at Mrs. Gardiner, "more than we deserve, for who is to say if he wants to change, or if I want to change him?"

"You shall not be satisfied until you do Lizzy," Mrs. Gardiner smiled back, "I know you."

Elizabeth laughed then, her first after the one she had shared with Mr. Darcy at the Netherfield ball. It was good to talk to someone who knew the world better than yourself, and could guide you in the proper direction, but she was not yet ready to do all that Mrs. Gardiner asked of her, it was too much, too soon. She was however resolved to be civil to him as long as she could bear to be, and knew that it shall not be long, for George provoked her so.

* * *

Darcy's hand stopped in the middle of stirring his tea as his eyes absorbed the name on the top most envelope lying on a silver platter, _'Mr. Bennet'_. He quickly tore it open and perused the letter in a hurry, a frown appearing on his brow. Mr. Bennet had written, as agreed previously, to inform him and his brother that Miss Elizabeth had arrived at London with her mother. Darcy placed the letter back in the platter while his siblings chatted happily about George's betrothed.

"You are really being quite vague in describing her to me, George," Georgiana pouted at George while he finished his eggs, "is her eye colour really so hard to describe?"

It was, rather. Darcy had tried to pin the exact shade down many times during their acquaintance as well, but had never been able to. Every time they met, her eyes looked different from before and yet at a casual glance, they seemed brown, he absently drank his tea and mused on Miss Elizabeth's eyes.

"My dear Gina," George's pleasant tenor brought him out of his untimely and uncalled for absorption in the eyes of his younger brother's intended, "you have proven yourself to be quite indefatigable where questioning me about Elizabeth is concerned," Darcy felt uneasy at George's careless use of Miss Elizabeth's first name, it was just not proper. "She shall be here soon enough and then you would be able to see and judge for yourself, and I have no doubt that you would not be able to find the exact colour of her eyes either, it changes everyday."

"She is here," Darcy told George after draining his cup of tea, "Miss Elizabeth arrived here in London yesterday. I have just received Mr. Bennet's missive, informing me about her arrival." Darcy could not have thought it possible if he had not seen George actually jump so high.

"When, where, why did you not tell me before?" A myriad of questions spilled out of his mouth, as Georgiana sat giggling at his obvious discomposure. Darcy rolled his eyes.

"She came to London yesterday and is staying at her Uncle's place in Cheapside." Darcy told him calmly as he pushed away his empty tea cup, "as for not telling you before, well I never claimed to be a clairvoyant." Georgiana giggled some more while George stared stupidly at him.

"I must go to her," he said at last as his demented expression got replaced by a wide grin, "right now."

"Surely there is no need for such haste," Darcy arched an eyebrow at his brother, "let her rest today and you can go and pay a visit tomorrow."

"Oh no," George stood up and said vehemently, "William my dear, you would not understand the reason for my hurry, not having fallen in love yourself, but I cannot bear to be in the same city with her and not in the same room." George stepped away from the table quickly and then turned around suddenly, "Gina, sweeting, would you like to accompany me?"

Darcy was slightly irked by George's statement, just because he had compromised a woman into getting engaged to him, did not mean that he was in love with her as well. But knowing George, he probably thought himself deeply attached, when he was only deeply infatuated. He turned towards Gina and found her looking hopefully at him, Darcy found himself struggling to hide his frown. There was no way, as Georgiana's guardian that he was going to let her visit Cheapside, it was neither suitable nor necessary.

"I think it would be better if this first visit is paid by you alone," Darcy said firmly to George who did not look even a little bit perturbed at this pronouncement, "I do not think that Miss Elizabeth's relations would appreciate all the Darcys sprung upon them unannounced. You as the future son-in-law of the family, hold a different position." Darcy turned towards Georgiana at the end of his statement and saw her face fall with a slight twinge of conscience.

"Oh well," George said casually as he stepped towards the door leading out of the breakfast parlour, "I suppose you do not think the Bennet relatives to be worthy of an acquaintance."

"George," Darcy said in warning, not wanting to discuss the social circle he thought appropriate for Georgiana to move in, in front of her.

"Both you and Gina would have to pay the proper respect to my betrothed and her family, William," George said firmly as he stopped by the door and turned to look at him somewhat sternly, "whether you like it or not," and with that he went away.

Darcy sat staring at Mr. Bennet's note as he realized the truth of George's words. He was right of course, no matter how unsuitable and vulgar the Bennet relatives were, there was no escaping the constant meetings between the two families until and even perhaps after the wedding. And the sooner the introductions were got over with, the better. He looked up to find Georgiana watching him curiously.

"Do you not like Miss Elizabeth?" She asked bluntly as soon as their eyes met.

Darcy winced, he definitely did not **like **her, but he had to admit that despite her image being tarnished by the scene that played out every night in front of his eyes before he went to sleep, he could not bring himself to think too ill of the woman who, in a very few days, had captured his imagination in a way that he did not exactly understand.

"Why do you say so, Gina?" He asked, trying to look and sound indifferent.

"There is a look about you every time George mentions her," she said with a shrug of her shoulders, "as though you are not wholly comfortable discussing Miss Elizabeth."

How could he be comfortable discussing her when the circumstance of how she came to be engaged to his brother were so unwholesome? And it was indeed very difficult now to restore the opinion he held of her before the Netherfield ball. Of course, the very thought of Miss Elizabeth made him uneasy, unsettled and to some extent unnerved.

"You mistake me, my dear," Darcy tried to smile but gave up after a moment, acknowledging that it would not be forthcoming, "even though Miss Elizabeth and I are not the best of friends, there is no animosity between us either."

"So why do **you** not tell me what kind of a person she is," Georgiana asked eagerly as she moved a little forward in her chair, "since George was so annoyingly unforthcoming on this subject?"

_'A Scheming,' _he thought bitterly, _'lying and cunning woman, that is what Miss Elizabeth is.' _But he could not very well tell his sister, who was still unaware of the vices of the world, all this. It was better if she was left to make her own impression or had the guidance of the besotted George.

"I…you should ask him again," Darcy said hesitantly, not wanting to speak on the topic of Miss Elizabeth, "he was probably teasing you. I do not know her all that well."

"Do you think I shall like her," Georgiana's blue eyes shone with hope as both of them got up from their seats and Darcy escorted her outside the room, "shall we be able to become friends?"

Darcy thought of how he had thought that Miss Elizabeth would be good for Georgiana, she was exactly the kind of person who made others feel comfortable around them, except him of course, but that was partly due to his own awkwardness at times. But she had always been quite kind in talking about Georgiana, he thought of how considerate she had been when she had told him to a have a swing for his sister at Pemberley and also of how kind she was to her own sister during her illness.

"Yes," he struggled with Miss Elizabeth's positives and negatives, so far all the negatives coming out of that one fateful moment when he had found her locked in a passionate embrace with his brother, and then decided to opt for what he had observed of her before that moment, "I am sure that you will," he told Georgiana as they stopped near his study door.

"Oh William," her already beautiful face lit up at the thought of a friend, "I do so want to have a friend, but even more than that I am glad that I shall have a sister." Darcy smiled at her childish excitement, she was after all only fifteen, "or perhaps two," suddenly her smile became somewhat mischievous, "Lady Felicity came to visit in your absence, twice."

Darcy blushed despite himself. If Georgiana and George had guessed at his interest in Lady Felicity, then perhaps his behaviour had not been as guarded as he would like to think. _'Does the lady in question also know of my intentions?' _He wondered as Georgiana went upstairs and he closed the study door behind him and went to his writing table to sort through the piles of paper that his steward had brought with him from Pemberley.

He sat poring over the estate matters without really registering what they were about, just like he was doing for the past two days. But instead of his brother's betrothed and engagement, his mind was engaged in the matter of the upcoming intercourse with Mrs. Bennet's brother, Mr. Gardiner. Darcy knew nothing about him except that he was a tradesman, and that apparently was enough to give rise to the prejudice he usually held for people who had to work for a living instead of managing lands like himself. But as his brother had said that there was no escaping the connection now, therefore it would be better for him to keep an open mind in order to tolerate the Gardiners better, even though he had not very high hopes for a brother of the shrieking Mrs. Bennet.

_"I have learnt, to my cost, that one must not be quick to judge," _unbidden, his own voice whispered in his ears.

_"Fine words, indeed,"_ Miss Elizabeth had told him before asking, _"do you practice them as well?"_

_'Yes,' _he thought, _'I must not be quick to judge.' _He had made one opinion after another about Miss Elizabeth, all of which turned out to be wrong. At first he had thought her to be setting her cap at George, then he had refuted that idea and moved on to the one in which he had deemed her to be a virtuous, if slightly impertinent woman, only to be proven wrong yet again, for though she was most impertinent, she was definitely not virtuous. Perhaps it would be better if he waited till actually meeting The Gardiners before supposing them to be unworthy.

Darcy sighed and pushed the papers away, it seemed as though no work was to be done today either. The day passed in a lethargic pace, with nothing holding his attention for long. Dinner time was approaching when George came back in an obviously good mood and joined Darcy in his study. The brothers talked pleasantly, or at least one of them did, of the new entrant in the family and her relatives till it was time for dinner, through which the good mood of the Darcys, or at least two of them, continued. It was only when the brothers sat listening to Georgiana play the pianoforte to them afterwards that George told Darcy that they were all invited to have tea with the Gardiners on the morrow.

* * *

George walked towards the carriage with a spring in his step. Elizabeth was here, so what if she had not given him leave to call her that, she was and would always be **his Elizabeth. **He got on the carriage and it started towards the address mentioned in Mr. Bennet's letter. What a temper she had, he thought fondly of his feisty intended and then smiled. She was in London, and nothing, not even the memory of her slap and subsequent rebukes was going to turn his mood sour. He peeked outside as the streets became rougher, and houses smaller. They had arrived at Cheapside.

George was no Darcy, but even he did not relish the thought of visiting Cheapside often, but that changed as soon as he met the Gardiners. He stood in the small but neat parlour of twenty-eight Gracechurch Street and met two of the most agreeable and genteel people of his acquaintance.

"Do sit down Mr. Darcy," Mr. Gardiner said politely as Mrs. Gardiner told the maid to summon Mrs. Bennet and Elizabeth, "Elizabeth shall be along presently."

"I just found out that Mrs. Bennet and Miss Elizabeth had arrived here in town," he told them pleasantly, "otherwise I might have come sooner."

"That would not have been possible Mr. Darcy," Mrs. Gardiner told him with a twinkle in her eyes, "for they only arrived in the late evening yesterday."

"Oh well," George felt like a fool for a moment, William had also said something on the same lines but in a manner much drier, "you are right I suppose." Just then the door opened and Mrs. Bennet came inside twittering and rambling god knew what, for George suddenly lost all interest as well as hearing as his eyes fell on Elizabeth's stern countenance. He bowed and she curtseyed, _'no one curtseys quite like her,' _he thought idiotically_._

"Sit by Mr. George, Lizzy," Mrs. Bennet was suddenly George's favourite person in the whole world, "there now," she smiled with satisfaction as Elizabeth took a seat next to him.

"I kept telling Lizzy that you shall come as soon as you find out that we are here," she simpered after settling down beside her sister, "but she would not believe me. Thank him Lizzy, thank him," Mrs. Bennet urged and he watched Elizabeth roll her eyes, they looked more lively than he had last seen them. George thought it a good omen.

"Please, Mrs. Bennet, it is quite all right. There is no need to thank me for something that was impossible for me not to do." He was in no mood to let any oppourtunity go by in which he did not assure Elizabeth of his feelings for her.

"Do not worry," Elizabeth turned towards him with a sardonic expression on her face, "I was not going to either."

"Why Lizzy," Mrs. Bennet shrieked and, "do not mind her Mr. George, she just loves to jest, just like her father."

George observed Elizabeth wince slightly at the mention of her father and noted it down as one of the unmentionables.

"How was your journey?" he began tentatively, _'God,' _George thought in dismay, _'will her mood never brighten up?'_

"Fine," Elizabeth replied stonily, without looking at him.

"You do not think the weather here too hot?" He tried again with a lame question.

"No."

"Are you settled comfortably?"

"Yes."

"This seems like a nice house."

"Hm."

"Why did any of your sisters not come with you?"

A shrug.

"How long did it take you to travel here?"

Another shrug. _'My,' _he again thought idiotically, _'nobody shrugs quite like her.'_

"I am not too early, am I?"

A frown.

"Are you pleased to see me?" George, thoroughly exasperated at this one-sided conversation, asked her at last. She turned defiantly towards him, but before she could say something biting, the maid entered with the tea things and everyone quickly busied themselves with cakes and scones. On Mrs. Bennet's order, Elizabeth made tea for George. He felt a sudden peace fall on him when she asked him about the sugar. How wonderful it would be when she would make tea for him everyday. He stared at her as she passed cups to her Aunt and Uncle, Mrs. Gardiner said something to her discreetly and he saw her grimace and then look furtively at him. He wondered if the older woman might have admonished Elizabeth for her clipped answers.

"So?" He asked her when everyone busied themselves in tea and each other, providing them with relative privacy. Elizabeth looked up, from her cup at him, questioningly. He did not know if it was an act, but she looked truly adorable with a slightly confused look on her face.

"Are you not pleased to see me?" He repeated and looked carefully at her.

"It is too soon for pleasure," she told him averting her eyes. George sighed and consoled himself with, _'well any answer is better than a shrug, even though no one shrugs quite like her either.'_

"I am sorry about what happened, Eliz…," she shot him a warning look and he stopped short, "Miss Elizabeth," he amended halfheartedly, "please you must see that I am." He almost begged her then , even though he had not repented his actions for even a moment, knowing full well that Elizabeth would not have been his any other way.

"Frankly," she looked at him rather piercingly, "I do not."

"Would you rather I begged?" He asked hotly now.

"I might have, if I had thought it a remedy for my pain," she said in a frosty manner, "as it is, it would be of no use."

"Then how are we to overcome this Elizabeth?" She turned towards him sharply but he remained adamant, "you can stare all you want, but Elizabeth you shall be to me, forever."

"This is not the kind of behaviour that is going to endear you to me," she said irritably as she delicately sipped her tea.

"Is there any kind of behaviour that could?" He rasped, "the behaviour that is going to **endear me to you **is going to be yours Elizabeth, not mine."

"I do not know how to get past what happened between us," she looked stonily at him now, a moment's vulnerability showing on her face, "and you do not understand the harm it has caused me in the eyes of my father," her face quickly became hard, "the most important man in the world to me. Our perspectives of that event are too different for us to be reconciled about it. So I do not see us making any progress until you realize your mistake or I accept your view of it."

"I had come here today to see your smile," he told her dejectedly, "but you have stolen even mine."

"Have I?" She suddenly seemed pleased, "then I shall consider it an accomplishment," she told him with a sudden shine in her eyes, "not that your brother would agree."

George stared at her for a moment before grinning like a fool. She just made a joke, surely that was something to be happy about.

"But I would," he placed his empty cup on the side table as he turned fully towards her.

"Oh you would agree to anything I say," she replicated his movements and sat facing him squarely, "to get into my good graces."

"And why would I do that," he smiled his charming smile and observed Mrs. Gardiner blink from the corner of his eye. Yes, his smile still worked on every woman except the one sitting opposite him, "when you have explicitly told me that it is an impossibility?"

"I am glad that at last we understand each other perfectly," her tone was biting.

"Let me hope Elizabeth," he suddenly blurted out, "only a little. I want this so badly." He looked at her with mute appeal and saw her face grow rigid at first, then soften up slightly.

"It is very difficult," she told him tightly.

"I shall be at my charming best," he said lightly bending towards her.

"That is part of the problem," she turned away from him towards the rest of the party, "not the solution."

George stared at the side of her beautiful face and then his eyes dipped towards her beautifully sculpted neck, the very part of her anatomy that he could claim to have touched in the most intimate way, he sighed. Elizabeth was as stubborn as a mule, but he had not learned to give up easily. At least she had, no matter how unwillingly, allowed him to call her Elizabeth, the rest would follow soon.

He turned towards Mr. Gardiner just as he invited him and his family to tea the next day. The conversation moved towards neutral topics such as Lambton, which was Mrs. Gardiner's home town and was situated only five miles south of Pemberley. He smiled and joined the conversation with zeal, for here was a topic he was untiring about. The conversation ended only with his departure with Elizabeth not being very forthcoming, but George still being very optimistic.

**A/N: **This is the longest that I have gone without posting and I am heartily sorry for it. I'm moving from one corner of the country to another and it's taking longer than expected and to top all that, my laptop is not catching WiFi signals.

Your reviews is all that has kept me going, even though I haven't been able to reply to them all (replying via phone can be very tiresome), so might still not be able to reply except the ones that have questions or that praise me to the sky ;)

To people who do not like the story, sorry and to the ones who do...loads of thanks for your support. Seriously for one criticizing comment, I need at least 10 positive ones :)

One person asked about my posting scedule, well I don't really take a lot of time, just 3-4 days max, but since I'm busy nowadays so the gap has been quite long. Will try to post soon again.

Oh and sorry about the ton/town mix up, won't (hopefully) happen again.

Darcy's coming in the next chapter.

**Next Chapter: A Tea, a Dinner and Baron Farnsworth**


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12: A Tea, a Dinner and Baron Farnsworth**

Elizabeth tried not to run after Thomas Gardiner but it was too tempting and liberating. She had not felt so free of any kind of burden, since the Netherfield ball, as she did now when she was pretending to be walking really fast when it was obvious that she was actually only running rather slowly. Julia, Michael and Tom had insisted that she come with them for a morning's excursion to the small and mostly empty park nearby, and she had complied, amidst Mrs. Bennet's wails of _'but the Darcys are to come and I shall not be there to meet them, oh my poor nerves'. _Mrs. Bennet had contracted a headache after the journey and therefore was in bed, unable to receive her prestigious guests. Her Aunt and Uncle had also tried to put some sense into her but the prospect of going out for a walk (a run, really) had a certain allure, especially since the park was almost empty and there was no fear of propriety if she ran after Tom, which she did not, of course.

After a while two young men entered the park, and so ended Elizabeth's little morning adventure. She stopped near the fountain and watched the children play, her mind drifting off towards the previous morning's visitor. George Darcy had come to pay her a morning call, and had been everything that a suitor ought to be. He was attentive, forbearing and tolerant of her rude behaviour, but he was also the man who had deliberately tried to stain her reputation, who had spoiled, perhaps forever, the beautiful relationship between a father and daughter, he was also the man that she could not think of without feeling revolted.

She tucked the few stray curls, that had come loose from her bun while she was running after her young cousin, behind her ears, today George was coming again, this time with his formidable brother and accomplished sister. The thought of Mr. Darcy's disdain still hurt her, the fact that he had also chosen not to believe her was a sore spot for her pride. She had always perceived that Mr. Darcy knew what his brother was capable of, and yet, when the time came he also chose to ignore George's low moral standards and opted for the easy route, that of blaming everything on the woman.

"Come on children," Elizabeth called out to the young Gardiners, "we had better be off or your Mama shall be cross."

"Mama ish alwaysh closh with me (Mama is always cross with me)," Tom pouted adorably and Michael giggled.

"That is because you are always misbehaving Tommy," Julia said with a superior air and Tom looked murderously at her as Elizabeth took his hand and gestured for the other two to head out of the park.

"Only Lishy lovesh me (only Lizzy loves me)," Tom squeezed her hand, apparently Elizabeth was his first love and he had been quite put out at the news of her engagement.

"Of course, I do, you adorable little kitten," she pinched his cheek and he reddened with pleasure as he looked up at his siblings with a triumphant air.

"Oh look, a carriage," Michael pointed out, "the guests have arrived."

Elizabeth felt slightly perturbed at the sight of the grand Darcy carriage, her first impulse was to run away and never have to face the people who had come in it, but alas, that was a vain wish. The children sprinted towards the house in excitement and Elizabeth followed them hurriedly, not even stopping to look at herself in the mirror on the entrance wall. Her heart pounded wildly, for some reason, as she entered the morning parlour behind Tom, feeling just as breathless as him, even though she had not been running.

The soft hum of mundane conversation came to an abrupt halt at her entrance, as both gentlemen got up promptly and bowed and Miss Darcy curtseyed, looking at her in awe. Elizabeth felt uncomfortable as three pairs of eyes, two blue and one grey, took in her appearance, which was obviously not what a lady's ought to be, especially when she was expecting company. She curtseyed however with as much composure as she could muster and moved a little nearer to the chairs.

"May I present my sister, Miss Georgiana Darcy?" George introduced the tall, fair haired girl who shared his colouring and eyes, "and this is Miss Elizabeth Bennet." Miss Darcy smiled somewhat shyly at her and Elizabeth returned it with a forced one of her own, unable to bring herself to even seem pleasant, let alone be so.

"How do you do Miss Darcy?" Elizabeth asked politely, "and do sit down please."

"I am very well, thank you," she said in a soft melodious voice as the three of them sat down.

"These are my children," Mr. Gardiner pointed towards the three fidgeting youngsters, "Miss Julia, Master Michael and Master Thomas." All the three Gardiners curtseyed even though the boys were supposed to bow. Elizabeth rolled her eyes as she noticed faint smiles on everyone's faces, "and children these are Mr. Darcy, Mr. George Darcy, and Miss Darcy."

"Are theesh the Dalshy blothelsh (are these the Darcy brothers)?" Tom looked curiously at the guests and Elizabeth felt a moment's panic, perhaps it had not been wise to talk about the Darcys in front of the children. Mr. Gardiner nodded.

"Lishy saysh that the Dalshy blothelsh aal molonsh (Lizzy says that the Darcy brothers are morons)," Tom looked skeptically at the Darcy brothers but Elizabeth stared at Miss Darcy and the spray of tea that came out of her mouth at Tom's pronouncement about her brothers.

"Tom," Elizabeth cried in alarm as her face crimsoned over and then quickly turned towards the guests who were all trying not to smile, except Miss Darcy, who was laughing openly. "I did **not** say that," she tried to clarify but the countenances of everyone made it plain that they rather took Tom's word for it.

"Did you not ask her, why she is marrying one of us then?" George looked mischievously at Elizabeth as he asked Tom. What happened next was something no one in the room could have expected, least of all George.

"She will not mally you (she will not marry you)," Tom hurtled towards him in rage and slammed his stocky little foot on his Hessian clad one. Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner stared dumbfounded at their youngest son as George winced slightly, "**I **will mally hul (I will marry her)," was uttered with conviction the next moment and then Tom's head dipped as he sunk his teeth into George's thigh making him gasp with pain as much as shock.

Elizabeth looked horrified as Mr. Darcy quickly got off his chair and made his way to the nearest window, his back turned towards the room. Elizabeth felt embarrassed in the extreme for a few moments before she noticed the shaking of his shoulders. Lo and behold, Mr. Darcy was laughing, actually, uncontrollably, unrestrainedly laughing. She turned around to find that Miss Darcy was also clutching at her abdomen as she dissolved into helpless giggles. _'Oh well, it could have gone worse, I suppose,' _Elizabeth thought, a smile erupting on her face as Mr. Gardiner carried a kicking and screaming Tom outside to teach him a lesson that he would not be forgetting in a hurry, while Julia and Michael followed, _'at least he did not bite Mr. Darcy.'_

Her eyes then fell on the red face of George and she could finally see the humour in the whole scene. She chuckled softly as her eyes met the exasperated as well as mortified ones of Mrs. Gardiner and she shrugged and thanked God that her mother **had the nerves **that day.

"I hope you are not too badly hurt?" Elizabeth asked in mock concern as she made her way to sit by Miss Darcy hoping that the wound would fester, "Tom is rather…err…enthusiastic." Her eyes twinkled and she tipped her head to a side at George's sullen countenance, _'bless you Tommy, I wish you had been even more __**enthusiastic.'**_

"Why do I have a feeling that you are rather enjoying this?" George said petulantly and Elizabeth smiled broadly, showing her white teeth to full advantage.

"Because I am," she said impishly, "and it is good to know that you **understand** me so well," George's expression soured at this and Elizabeth turned towards the still giggling Miss Darcy, "I hope you are not too disturbed by your brother's…err…injury?"

"Not at all," she smiled at her, "I assure you."

"I apologize heartily for his behaviour," Mrs. Gardiner said contritely, "he is rather possessive about Elizabeth and has been in a bad mood ever since he discovered that she has gotten engaged."

"It is nothing I assure you, Mrs. Gardiner," Mr. Darcy told her aunt in his deep voice as he walked back to his seat, no sign of his recent bout of mirth visible on his face, "George has suffered worse, and often at the hand of a rival, much like this instance." Not only had Mr. Darcy laughed, but he was also joking, or throwing a jab at his brother, which was even better as far as Elizabeth was concerned.

"And deservingly so," Elizabeth's eyes met Mr. Darcy's grey ones, smiling for a change, "I suppose."

"Yes," he said as their eyes met and held. She felt a shadow pass over his face as it became stern once again, "but George always wins," he said as if speaking without realizing, "in the end." She did not flinch or blink under his intense stare, their few encounters at Hertfordshire had taught her how to hold it and not be intimidated.

"I do not doubt it," she said in a hollow voice dropping her eyes at last, "my only doubts are for the means he employs to achieve victory." Her heart beat slowed down as she thought of the **means** George had used to win **her**, lies, deception and pretense.

"I am sitting here," George complained, "in case you two have not perceived."

Elizabeth looked up towards him and she wanted to scream and shout and hurl things at him, _'what an insensitive brute he is,' _she thought with a sudden burst of anger.

"Ah, Mr. Gardiner," as soon as her uncle entered the parlour again, Mr. Darcy quickly got off his chair, "there is something we need to discuss. Mr. Bennet must have communicated it to you, I suppose."

"Of course, Mr. Darcy," Mr. Gardiner gestured towards the door that led to the corridor where his study was, "this way please." He turned around before exiting, "would you please send the refreshments to the study, my dear? This shall take a while."

"Of course," Mrs. Gardiner, to whom the question was directed, replied good-naturedly and the gentlemen disappeared through the door.

"Why has the tea been served before the refreshments, Aunt Madeline?" Elizabeth asked as she observed the tea cups lying around but no tea things.

"Oh you know Martha," Mrs. Gardiner sighed in exasperation, "she brought out tea before the refreshments," then she turned towards Miss Darcy, "my new maid is rather hopeless."

"It is quite all right, Mrs. Gardiner," the young girl said politely, "our maids make such blunders all the time as well."

Elizabeth looked carefully at her, she must be a kind soul to lie like that in order to make her aunt feel comfortable, and yet she was a Darcy, there must be some quirk in her personality that Elizabeth had not found out yet.

"You must be glad now that your brothers are come back," Elizabeth opened with a safe topic.

"Oh yes," her face immediately brightened up, "and especially glad of the news they have brought with them," she looked shyly at her now and Elizabeth fought the urge to grimace.

"Indeed the addition of a sister to your family must be a relief to you, having grown up with two older brothers," Mrs. Gardiner said pleasantly.

"I had been hinting at it for a while now," she smiled indulgently at George who grinned in turn, "but I had never imagined that it would be George who shall be the first one to take the leap. He always made fun of marriage."

"I can well believe that," Elizabeth mocked and then her eyes fell on George's hurt and Miss Darcy's confused countenances and she stopped short. Degrading a well loved brother in front of his sister was probably not such a good idea. "I mean to say that he is always joking about something or another," she quickly changed her statement, not wanting to discomfit Miss Darcy.

"So you thought Mr. Darcy would be the first one to become betrothed?" Mrs. Gardiner quickly changed the topic, sensing everyone's unease.

"I probably should not have said so," Miss Darcy blushed and Elizabeth recalled what George had told her about Mr. Darcy courting a woman from a very high ranking family, an Earl's daughter perhaps.

"Why ever not?" George said with his customary carelessness, "everyone shall know soon enough. My brother did not pay so much attention to a lady, to jilt her and scamper off."

"George," Miss Darcy cried, "William shall be very angry if he found out that you have been spreading the news of him and Lady Felicity about, without any grounds for it."

"When is William not angry, Gina," George rolled his eyes and chuckled, "it would be an excellent joke if I did spread this news about, not that I have," his eyes twinkled, **"yet.** Imagine people making bets about it at Whites."

"You are incorrigible George," Miss Darcy sat back and folded her arms on her chest in disapproval, "I shall not talk to you if you did something this callous. Besides, William does not pay her any particular attention, even I only became aware of…ahem…well when **you** mentioned it to me."

Elizabeth, who was watching the banter between the siblings with interest, looked carefully at George as he paled slightly and then came to sit by his sister.

"I am only jesting dearest," he took her hand, "I shall do no such thing, now promise me that you shall never use such cruel methods of coercion again."

Miss Darcy smiled and George relaxed just as the maid entered with the tea things. Elizabeth thought the interaction between the brother and sister pretty charming, at least there was someone who was safe from George's selfish impulses, for she suspected that even Mr. Darcy was not secure against his reckless whims. Why else would he blatantly try to stir a rumour that may or may not come to fruition, and that too involving his own brother and a respectable woman? She felt aghast at having to marry a man so devoid of any sense of propriety and honour.

"Lizzy, why do you not serve the tea to Mr. George and Miss Darcy while I take Martha to the study," Mrs. Gardiner asked Elizabeth in a low voice, "she might commit another blunder if left to her own devices."

"Oh Aunt, stay," Elizabeth quickly got up, wanting to be away from George who had been staring at her most unnervingly, "I shall take her to the study and check on Mama as well."

Elizabeth walked down the corridor ahead of the forgetful Martha, glad to be rid of her betrothed's thoughtless schemes and knocked at the study door before entering. Mr. Darcy stood by the window, quite alone.

"Mr. Darcy," she croaked at finding him, unexpectedly, the only occupant of her Uncle's library, a circumstance that she would not have thought possible even a week ago.

"Miss Elizabeth," he turned around slowly and looked at her in his typical impassive manner.

Martha quickly deposited the tray on the table and handed him a plate with a quivering hand, only to drop it midway. Elizabeth sighed in irritation, taking solace in the fact that the rug numbed the fall and it did not break.

"That will be all Martha, you may leave now," she told her politely, "I shall manage from here."

"Where is my Uncle?" Elizabeth asked Mr. Darcy as Martha exited the study after picking the offending plate up.

"He went to fetch something from his rooms," he replied dryly.

"And what are you two discussing," Elizabeth motioned for him to take a seat near the table upon which Martha had placed the tray, "my marriage settlements?" She asked sardonically.

Elizabeth knew full well why Mr. Darcy had asked for a private audience with Mr. Gardiner. Her father had appointed her Uncle to take care of all the legal matters involved in her marriage settlement, he did not even think her important enough to discuss her future with Mr. Darcy or George himself, and the thought of her life becoming the Darcys' to do as they pleased with it, riled her to no end.

"Yes," he replied in a clipped tone and advanced further into the room, but made no move to sit down.

"What are you settling upon me, Mr. Darcy?" She looked up at him and asked in a rather off hand manner. The Darcys were a rich family, possibly among the richest in the whole country and that made her feel as though everyone would see her for a mercenary, greedy and grasping woman, which she was not, but Mr. Darcy's eyes were clearly implying that it was what he considered her to be.

"Nothing," he shrugged, "I am settling nothing upon you, it is my brother who is."

"Indeed," she mocked and looked around pointedly, "and yet I do not see **him** anywhere."

"He chose for **me** to arrange the legalities involved in the bequest," he took a step nearer to where she was standing, anger slowly starting to show in his eyes.

"Just like you arrange everything else for him?" Elizabeth edged closer to him as well, wanting to have everything out in the open. If he had not been so high handed in the Netherfield library, perhaps she might still have been a free woman.

"Should I not?" He bent towards Elizabeth, his eyes boring down on hers.

"For him, yes," she rasped, breathing raggedly now, "but for me, **no.** I would much rather take care of my own affairs."

"Is that what you were doing in the Netherfield Library," a nerve throbbed in his temple as he stared angrily at her, "taking care of **your own affairs?"**

"Is that what **you were** doing in the Netherfield library," she bit back, "interfering in matters that were no business of yours."

They had unknowingly stepped closer and closer till they stood within inches of each other as their eyes clashed, fiery amber with icy grey.

"Have you come here to fight with me?" He asked at last, his frown becoming more pronounced by the moment.

"No," she calmed down a little at his question and said somewhat mildly, "but you must know how excessively you provoke me."

"It is not intentional, I assure you," Mr. Darcy told her dryly, but did not step back or avert his eyes.

"But it is effective nonetheless," Elizabeth sighed in exasperation. Mr. Darcy had once again, rather successfully, been able to ruffle her feathers.

"And what about the affect **you** have on **me?"** Suddenly he inched even closer, his eyes showing a strange, unknown emotion.

"Do I have any?" She asked warily, not knowing where the conversation was headed.

"Indeed you do," he said hotly.

"Then I hope it is a sobering one," she took a step back and averted her eyes, his gaze too intense to bear at such a close quarters, anymore.

"Quite the contrary, Miss Elizabeth," he said in the same manner. Elizabeth looked up and stared at him, they were both unaware of their surroundings but highly aware of each other though not exactly understanding what had passed between them.

"I have found them at last," Mr. Gardiner's pleasant tenor broke whatever it was that the two had shared in the moments before his timely interruption.

Elizabeth quickly stepped further back and gave her Uncle a weak smile.

"Would you be so kind as to serve the tea things to Mr. Darcy, Uncle," she asked him hesitantly, "I need to check on Mama, for a bit."

"Of course, Lizzy," he said and she heard them start the discussion as she slowly backed out of the room without looking at the man who really did have a strange affect on her, and closed the door, placing her forehead on the cool wood to catch her breath before going up to Mrs. Bennet.

The Darcys did not stay long after that and left them with an invitation to dine at the Darcy House, the next week. Elizabeth did her best not to look at any of the brothers but was certainly in no state to be good company to the sister either. She could see the disappointment written clearly on Miss Darcy's face as she stood with the Gardiner's on the porch as they bid their guests adieu.

Elizabeth returned to the house with a heavy heart. The feeling of foreboding that she had had before their arrival had proved to be true to some extent. She had, once again, been disappointed in George, had a spat with Mr. Darcy and had not been able to come up to the expectations of young Miss Darcy. Her frustration kept on mounting in the subsequent days as she shopped for her trousseau with her mother and Aunt.

Elizabeth always loved to shop for apparel, be it a ribbon or a bonnet, but the very thought of shopping for her wedding, that too to a man that she so abhorred, made her wail _'oh my poor nerves' _quite like her mother. That was why even though they bought a lot of dresses, from morning gowns to evening gowns, ball gowns to riding habit (yes, Mrs. Bennet insisted upon it even though Elizabeth did not ride) and lingerie that made Elizabeth blush to the roots of her hair, she still had not been able to select her wedding dress.

The daily visits to the busy London streets had left her so out of sorts that she was actually glad when the day of the dinner at the Darcy House arrived even though her mother's insistence on Elizabeth wearing the gown with a scandalously low neckline did give her a moment's pause, _'but no,' _she thought, _'any distraction is better than __**this.' **_Besides, in the end she did wear the gown that she wanted to, having learnt to outsmart Mrs. Bennet from a very young age.

Elizabeth winced slightly as Martha, Mrs. Gardiner's maid who was quite inept at serving tea but surprisingly handy with hair, though apt to pull rather too tightly at times, inserted a pin in her hair, scraping the skin of her head slightly. Martha was helping Elizabeth to get ready for the dinner, and was making her hair into a rather elaborate style, per Mrs. Bennet's instructions.

Martha pulled another strand of her hair, coiled it and then pinned it to her head. Elizabeth watched her progress absentmindedly. George, who visited her everyday without fail and was not even averse to going for shopping with them, had asked her opinion on whether she wanted to go to Pemberley after their wedding, to Krenmoral Abbey (his estate in Cheshire), or Italy and she had asked to think on it for a while. Elizabeth was sure that she definitely did not want to go abroad with him as it would be a sheer waste of time and the Darcy riches, since she would never be able to take pleasure in any of the beauty and architecture in Italy with George by her side. Pemberley was likewise out of the question since it was not to be her home, therefore she had decided to tell him that Krenmoral it was.

"All done ma'am," Martha stepped away to allow Elizabeth to take a clear look at her handiwork and the appreciative smile on Elizabeth's face told her that she had been rather successful.

"Thank you Martha," Elizabeth said gratefully, "you have done a marvelous job. You may leave now."

Elizabeth stood up and observed her reflection in the mirror. The beige evening gown that Mama had gotten her for her birthday suited her well, bringing out the amber in her eyes and making her skin look like porcelain. She sighed and turned away to pick up her reticule, what use was it if she looked beautiful or not when the very man she was to spend the rest of her life with had no comprehension of her mind.

She stepped out of the room and climbed down the stairs. Even his brother comprehended her better than George himself ever could, and yet the same brother had forced her into this marriage, along with her father. Maybe it was this bitterness she had against Mr. Darcy and his **low **estimation of her that had led them to that strange dialogue in her Uncle's study. Her mind had drifted back to those few moments continually in the past few days, but she was no more able to discern what he meant by _'and what about the affect you have on me?' _than she was to understand the meaning of her own reaction to him.

Elizabeth took a deep breath and entered the front parlour, to join her Aunt, Uncle and mother who were already assembled there, listened to her relatives sing her praises and then climbed up the carriage that quickly made its way towards the Darcy House. As the streets became broader, carriages grander and houses loftier, Elizabeth made a silent resolution in her mind, she would be friendlier towards Miss Darcy (after all it was not her fault that her brother was a scoundrel), less argumentative towards Mr. Darcy, and the same as usual towards her intended.

As the doors to the Darcy House were thrown open, Elizabeth felt drawn, despite herself. If the house was impressive from the outside, it was most remarkable from the inside. All three of their hosts were assembled in the entrance to receive them. Her heart skipped a tiny, miniscule really, absolutely ignorable beat as her eyes met Mr. Darcy's, a reaction that should have been reserved for her future husband, whose needless chivalry only managed to divert her and thus she smiled up at him, which he obviously mistook for a sign of her reserve fading out and placed his hand on hers that was tucked in the crook of his arm. Elizabeth stiffened, _'thank God for gloves.'_

Miss Darcy was kind and courteous, though not as forthcoming as she had been at the Gardiner's, at the beginning of the evening, and positively beaming with joy towards the end. Elizabeth had been successful in carrying out all her resolutions except one. She had been successful in both wining Miss Darcy (now Georgiana to her), and being non-argumentative towards Mr. Darcy, but she had not been able to be quite as rude as usual towards George, for he really was at his best and most unoffending behaviour that night or at least before he departed to some mysterious location.

* * *

Darcy laid in his large and comfortable four-poster bed trying not to think of his brother's betrothed. _'Good God, she is my brother's intended,' _he turned on his back, _'what is wrong with me?' _ He had come back from Gracechurch Street feeling on edge even though the Gardiners had been all affability; their niece on the other hand had been a totally different matter.

He did not know, could not comprehend, why Miss Elizabeth affected him so. He remembered how she had looked in Mr. Gardiner's study and placed his hand on his eyes in a weak attempt at blocking her image. She had looked beautiful as she had entered the front parlour with the children, her hair coming loose and her cheeks flushed, and she had looked captivating as she had tried to suppress her mirth at George's predicament but the breathtaking picture she had presented in the study was what he was having trouble removing from his mind.

He let his hand fall to his side and stared at the canopy overhead. Why was she so angry at him? She should have been thankful that he had made sure that she and George get married, otherwise she would have had to earn her living as a governess (if she was lucky), not to mention that the reputations of her sisters would also have been ruined.

And yet instead of being grateful, she had the gall to tell him to stay out of her affairs. Darcy huffed and turned on his side once again, the woman was as ungrateful as she was unforgettable. _'Unforgettable?' _Darcy thought in dismay, _'what is wrong with me?' _But how her eyes had flashed, he involuntarily closed his eyes to recreate the picture she had presented earlier in the day, she had looked almost wild, as wild as she had looked at Netherfield when she had come to check on her sister, but more so now as she had breathed deeply with her face flushed and her lips trembling. _'Her lips,' _Darcy at last hit upon something to blame everything on, _'the problem is her lips, no one should be allowed to have such an alluring pout.'_

But he knew, he knew that it was not just her features that tortured him, it was her words and her behaviour as well. Apparently Miss Elizabeth loved to goad, but he realized his mistake in thinking that she provoked only him. The truth was that it was her way, she conversed in the same manner with her Uncle and her father as well, for Darcy had noticed her interactions with others, and had always noticed the light bantering quality of her conversation, and found it amusing as well as intriguing.

But that was all in the past, his growing attraction to her was not good, not to mention wholly improper. He let out an exasperated sigh and sat up. There was no denying that he was attracted to Miss Elizabeth Bennet for even though he had disregarded her beauty initially, he could do naught but be charmed by it afterwards. And though he had seen many a beautiful women in his life and was even thinking of proposing to one soon, he had never found anyone quite as appealing to his eyes as her. She just made him think things that were not…well…appropriate, to put it mildly.

Darcy threw away the covers and placed his feet on the cold floor, he was a strong man who had gone through many a hard time without breaking, sustained many a loss without succumbing to grief and would fight this small attraction off without giving in to it as well. She was nothing but an insignificant woman who had given in to the demands of the flesh regardless to or maybe mindful of the risk of having been found, he thought with a sudden tightening of his jaws.

He got up and paced the room, trying to think on some other subject, anything but Miss Elizabeth. Perhaps it would be better to not argue with her anymore, arguments with her always left him befuddled, and made him go over every little nuance of their conversation, including her expressions and ahem…err…breathing pattern. Having hit upon the solution to his problem, he immediately halted his pacing, crawled under the covers and went to a peaceful sleep.

But what poor Darcy did not realize was that it was not merely Miss Elizabeth's physical appearance that drew him to her, it was much more than that. Clever though he was, he had failed to grasp that it was only after she had spoken to him that he had started to think of her as a beautiful woman, it was only after being challenged by her animated manner of speaking that he had observed the fire in her eyes, and it was only after she had outwitted him that he had come to find her alluring. Miss Elizabeth was a most intelligent and lively woman with an appealing playful manner, qualities he most cherished in the opposite sex but she was also the woman found in his brother's arms and therefore he thought himself right in judging her to be a wanton**. Now was not the time that he would comprehend his mistake, for now he was just satisfied with thinking his attraction to her a whim and his prejudice against her a fact.**

* * *

As Darcy stood in the entrance of his home receiving Miss Elizabeth and her relations, no one, not even himself could have believed the troubled night he had spent a few days ago. Darcy was indeed, a very strong man, who knew how to rein his unnecessary desires in, quite masterfully. In fact, he bowed and welcomed the very woman who was the reason of his unrest some time ago, with great indifference, both outwardly and inwardly and offered Mrs. Bennet his arm with a measure of self control that would hardly be considered normal by a lesser person.

"Oh how lucky my Lizzy is," Mrs. Bennet began as soon as everyone settled down in the beautifully decorated drawing room, complete with a pianoforte in the corner, "for this is quite a house to be mistress of."

"Mama," Miss Elizabeth cried from her place next to George, her cheeks burning up, "I shall not be the mistress of this house, only a guest," and then her voice lowered to almost a whisper, and if Darcy had not been listening quite carefully to her, he might have missed what she said next, "if even that."

"I am sure Mr. Darcy shall not begrudge you that title until he marries himself," Darcy's objection to Mrs. Bennet's lack of good relations was quite overcome after meeting the Gardiners, but his opinion on her lack of intellect only strengthened, if that was possible.

"I am sure he will given that his sister can perform that duty quite adequately," Miss Elizabeth tried to smile casually as she uttered that sentence, but Darcy could feel her mortification at her mothers comments, "Miss Darcy," she abruptly turned towards his silent sister, to change the topic and to silence her mother, "you have a lovely home." He saw Georgiana's face brighten up immediately.

"I thank you, Miss Elizabeth," she said humbly, "but the décor has not been touched ever since my mother had it renovated before my birth. Therefore I cannot take the credit for its loveliness."

"Oh then it is about time…," Mrs. Bennet's outburst, whatever it was to be, was swiftly cut off by her daughter.

"It is about time that you gave me a tour of the house then, Miss Darcy," Miss Elizabeth quickly jumped off the settee she was sharing with George, "it might help me to develop an appetite as well, for I had tea rather late this evening."

"Oh yes indeed," Georgiana stood up immediately, "would anyone else like to join us?" She looked around the room and Darcy shared a sly glance with his brother who had likewise detected Miss Elizabeth's discomfort at her mother's opinions and suggestions. Miss Elizabeth meanwhile was looking pleadingly at her Aunt.

"We had rather sit it out this time, Miss Darcy," Mrs. Gardiner said quickly but pleasantly, "perhaps another time."

"I shall come with you," how could George let a chance to spend every moment of his time with Miss Elizabeth go by and thus the three younger people exited the room.

Darcy turned towards Mr. Gardiner, an intelligent and sensible man, who, Darcy did not doubt was progressing at a quick pace on the ladder of success and would soon acquire an accommodation in a better locality than Cheapside. But meanwhile, Darcy did not have a problem in associating or visiting him thither. His pride, though considered substantial, was not large enough to overpower his sense of judgment, and he had judged the Gardiners to be good, kind people despite where they lived. He was only too glad to find some relations of the Bennets that he could introduce into society as his acquaintance.

Among the four of them, they conversed politely with sudden bouts of either nerves or comments from Mrs. Bennet, who, he noticed, severely lacked the ability to control her tongue and her thoughts. As Mr. Gardiner expressed a wish to spend sometime with George, Darcy sent a footman to fetch him, but the footman came back after a minute to inform him that George had left the house with someone a while ago. Feeling embarrassed at his brother's lack of manners, Darcy excused himself to seek Georgiana and inquire about where he had gone.

He beheld a strange sight as he reached the first floor. Miss Elizabeth was standing stock-still under the portrait of his mother, made in the early days of her marriage, holding Georgiana's kitten in her arms.

"Your mother was beautiful Georgiana," she mistook his step for that of his sister's. _'Georgiana?' _Darcy thought in surprise, _'so they have progressed to first names.'_

"Indeed she was," he said somewhat saddened as he looked at the beautiful woman with fair hair and blue eyes.

Miss Elizabeth who was standing on her toes to get a better look at the portrait, turned around hastily and lost her balance as Futon swiftly climbed down and scampered off. Darcy quickly stepped closer and caught her upper arm, pulling her back before she could fall to the ground. He let go of her as quickly as he had caught her, his hands burning where they had touched her.

"Th-thank you, Mr. Darcy," she said in a shaken voice as she rubbed her arm involuntarily where he had caught her, apparently with more force than he had realized or perhaps she had felt the heat as well, "you startled me."

"It was not intentional, I assure you," he repeated the same words that he had said to her in her Uncle's library a few days ago and saw understanding dawn on her face as she tried to suppress a smile.

"But effective nonetheless," she tipped her head to a side and uttered playfully, her eyes shining with amusement.

"Let us not fight anymore, Miss Elizabeth," he blurted out what was on his mind. He had become tired of arguing with her, it was much better to achieve some kind of harmony in their attitude towards each other, they were after all going to be family soon.

"Yes please," she dimpled most becomingly, Darcy blinked _'not the teeth, oh Lord not the teeth.' _But his wish was not to be granted for Miss Elizabeth smiled fully just then, and he could not help but think how perfect her teeth were. "We are going to be family soon, it will be much better to achieve some kind of harmony in our attitude towards each other." Darcy stared dumbfounded at her for sometime, it was as if she had read his mind.

"My thoughts exactly," he said as if in a trance.

"You must have come here looking for Georgiana," she looked questioningly at him and he nodded, still puzzled as to how both of them thought the same thing in the same words, "she has gone to fetch her sketchbook, to show Mrs. Gardiner the sketches she has drawn of scenes at Lambton and I, meanwhile, am amusing myself with your portrait collection. It is charming, Mr. Darcy," she told him turning around to face Lady Anne's portrait once again.

"Yes," he said looking at his mother's portrait from before marriage, "it is a Gainsborough, she was only fifteen then."

"She is very beautiful," Elizabeth said as her hand reached out to rub the side of her neck carelessly. _'God,' _Darcy groaned inwardly, _'does she do it on purpose?' _He felt his resolve, of not looking at her in any way other than a future sister, slipping. "I can see who your siblings get their looks from," she turned her head around slightly to look at him, "and even though," her eyes danced with mischief again, "you take after your father, I have found another face with your looks."

"I know which you mean," Darcy quickly walked off to a large painting hanging a few steps ahead and she followed him there, "It is my great grandmother, Mrs. Désiréé Darcy, nee D'Aubigne. She was French."

"Indeed," Miss Elizabeth turned towards his ancestor with interest, "she is…very…," she stuttered and Darcy hid a smile, he knew that she wanted to say seductive but could not, in front of him, "err… appealing," she said at last and rubbed her neck again, as she turned around, "and the resemblance to you is unmistakable, even though you are not half so appealing," she blatantly teased him and Darcy might have taken offense if he had not been aware that he was rather handsome, though not in the chiseled style of George.

"I thought you had agreed not to fight," if she wanted to tease, he could play her game very well, anything but another argument.

"I was simply stating a fact," she smiled impishly but then quickly changed the topic, "how many of these family portraits do you have?"

"Oh many," he shrugged, staring at his flimsily clad relative's provocative form in oil, "these are only a few, at Pemberley we have a whole portrait gallery. You shall be able to see it as soon as you arrive there after your marriage."

"Oh but…we are not going there after the wedding," she faced him and said in a dull voice, "I have decided that it would be much better if we went to Krenmoral Abbey."

"Have you now?" Darcy looked thoughtfully at her, feeling relieved that her teasing presence would not be at Pemberley to disconcert him, "yes, it does make sense to go to your **own** house." For some reason Miss Elizabeth looked pained, but any further discussion on that topic had to be put on hold as they spotted Georgiana approaching.

"Forgive me, Elizabeth," Georgiana said quickly, "for leaving you alone here for so long. It seems that I have misplaced the sketches somewhere."

"It is no matter," Miss Elizabeth turned towards her and smiled consolingly, "Mr. Darcy was here for more than half the time, but we had better get back to the drawing room now," and with that she moved towards the stairs and started descending.

"Where did George go, Gina?" Darcy held Georgiana back and asked in a hushed voice.

"Baron Farnsworth," Georgiana uttered two words and ran after Miss Elizabeth.

Darcy became rigid in alarm. The arrival of the Baron was not a good omen for George's future, for he was sure to put him up to some mischief or another. He climbed down the stairs in a state of unease, but schooled his features into a false calm before entering the drawing room, it would not do to look and behave suspiciously in front of his guests and he had better think of an excuse for George's sudden absence as well, quickly.

* * *

George looked around the spacious study at Farnsworth House, it was tastefully decorated and strangely comforting, perhaps because he had spent more of his time in town here, rather than at the Darcy House, where he was never at liberty to do as he pleased. Farnsworth had dragged him here on the plea of needing something done rather urgently, his usual tack, and one which George fell for every time and also one which more often than not, turned out to be a lie, this time being no different.

"I must get back, Farnsworth," George protested as the slightly plump man of about his age handed him another drink, his third that night, "and stop trying to get me intoxicated, what would Elizabeth think?"

"I did not know you would become such a nincompoop after your engagement, Lady Georgina," Farnsworth mocked, "now drink it up like a man. If this Elizabeth of yours is anything like you make her out to be, she would appreciate you for holding your liquor."

"Now that is humbug," George scoffed, "and she **is** everything that I make her out to be and more."

The study seemed warmer as the cool liquid burned down his throat, it was a study only in name for it was frequently used for activities other than studying. The Baron was a renowned libertine and drunkard and was now making him drink so much that he would be unable to make it home that night.

"I cannot believe that you would enter into an engagement without consulting with me first," he looked petulantly at George with his small brown eyes as he sat on a large chair, his feet on the ottoman.

"What are you," George bristled, "my father? I consult with no man, I am my own master."

"No man, but me," Farnsworth looked irritably at him, "we always do everything together George."

"But we cannot very well get engaged to the same woman," George's voice started to thicken as he poured himself a fourth glass, "but she does have a **lot **of sisters. You could marry one of them."

"Are they any good in bed?" The baron, thoroughly intoxicated asked without knowing what he was actually saying.

"Dunno," George replied, slowly trying to think how Elizabeth's sisters looked like and judge based on that, "I suppose they must, since Elizabeth is."

"So you have bedded her?" Farnsworth quickly jumped to a conclusion, hiccuping all the way.

"Course not," George giggled, needlessly, "but I shall, in less than two and a half weeks."

"So it has all been about that," Farnsworth tapped his glass, a gesture for George to fill it up, too drunk now to get up and do it himself, "you are marrying her because you cannot have her otherwise."

"No," George shouted, "I love her."

The Baron stared at him idiotically before falling to the floor in a deep slumber, his glass rolling away on the soft carpet. George stared at him giggling long after, his mind only vaguely aware of having left something of the utmost importance unfinished at home.

**A/N: **For people who are getting impatient for "the wedding", it'll happen at the end of Part-I, which is 15 chapters long. So not much time left now.

**Next Chapter: Turning the Tables**


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13: Turning the Tables**

Edward Gardiner watched Elizabeth's retreating back thoughtfully as she hurried upstairs to collect her reticule, while his wife entertained Miss Darcy.

"I hope I am not too early," Miss Darcy looked at the table that was still laid up with breakfast, in embarrassment, "both me and Elizabeth were eager to start as soon as possible."

"Of course, Miss Darcy," Madeline said pleasantly, "Elizabeth has always been an early riser and an avid walker. You are exactly on time."

"Here I am," Elizabeth entered with a brisk step, her face looking more animated than Edward had seen since she came to London, "Let us be off Georgiana. Oh I am so excited that I would not have to go for shopping today…"

Her voice dimmed down to nothing as she and Miss Darcy exited the house quickly to be off for their jaunt to the famous Hyde Park. Edward turned his attention back to the eggs, but the nagging feeling at the back of his mind did not cease.

"You had better talk about it, dearest," Madeline took a seat on his right and poured herself a fresh cup of tea, "other wise you would not be able to have any work done." He looked up at the extremely ordinary and yet extremely attractive face of Madeline and knew that she was right, he had that awful habit of not being able to concentrate if something was bothering him, and today it was his niece's intended.

"Did Mr. George Darcy's disappearance last night not bother you at all?" He blurted out at last as Madeline quietly stirred the sugar in her tea, "I for one thought it very odd."

"It did strike me as strange," Madeline said thoughtfully as she took a small sip from her teacup, "for a newly engaged (and claiming to be violently in love) gentleman to abandon his betrothed on her first visit to his house. But Edward," she turned towards him and smiled consolingly, "let us not forget that Mr. Darcy gave a very pertinent excuse for his sudden departure."

"No doubt," he agreed, but still did not make a move towards the eggs, "no doubt. Darcy has been all that is polite and kind to us, even if a little aloof, but his excuse for his brother's incivility did not convince me. Why could George Darcy not come to the drawing room and make his own case, it would hardly have taken a minute and we, by no means, would have tried to detain him."

"Are you not being a little harsh on that boy?" Madeline delicately placed her cup back on the saucer, "after all his going away did not affect the dinner in any way. We did manage to have a good time."

"Perhaps better than what we would have had in his presence," Edward grunted, "but that is not the point Madeline and you know it is not. I do not trust him," he said with distaste as his knee began to bounce lightly in agitation.

"Has he given you any reason not to?" She asked in concern.

"Is his trying to compromise Lizzy not reason enough," he suddenly stood up from his chair, "by God, I cannot believe that Bennet would trust this…this…this coxcomb over his own flesh and blood."

"Sit down Edward," Madeline told him firmly and he dropped back into the chair with a frown, "you must understand Mr. Bennet's point of view here as well. He did not hear the sorry tale from Lizzy like us, he **saw **it happen with his own eyes," Edward opened his mouth to say something but Madeline stopped him by holding up her hand, "dearest you must understand that it will take time, but sooner or later Mr. Bennet would be reconciled to the fact that Elizabeth is blameless."

"But it shall be too late by then," he cracked his knuckles, "I would hate to see Lizzy being miserable in a marriage where she has no affection for her spouse."

"As soon as Lizzy realizes that Mr. George Darcy's love for her is true and not a passing fancy, I am sure that her heart would melt," she smiled pleasantly at her husband, "and it seems to me that he is pretty determined to make her believe."

"If only it were Darcy instead of his brother," he said sullenly and Madeline burst out laughing.

"You sure are Fanny's brother now, are you not?" She teased and then added thoughtfully, "and Mr. Darcy does look at Lizzy in a rather peculiar manner."

"Good God, Madeline," he jumped at her observation, "I only suggested it in desperation, you cannot be thinking that Darcy fancies our Lizzy. **Now** who is related to Fanny?" He raised an eyebrow and Madeline blushed, "hand me the salt, my appetite has returned at last," he said pleasantly and the husband and wife talked on till it was time for him to go to his warehouse.

* * *

Darcy woke up with a start and stared absently at the light coming in through a slight partition between the curtains, alerting him to the fact that he had overslept. He sat up and stretched wondering whether George had come back last night or stayed over at the Baron's place. He tentatively placed his feet in the cold slippers, wanting desperately to crawl back into the warm bed and go to sleep again.

He had stayed up quite late after the guests had left, waiting for George, but when he had not appeared even after the clock had struck twelve, Darcy had decided to go to bed. But sleep had not come easily to him, he had tossed and turned thinking of George, Miss Elizabeth and Georgiana. Darcy had always wished to give Georgiana a sister, and one of his reasons for settling upon Lady Felicity as his future life partner had been the fact that she had always put Georgiana at ease. He had always observed how she brought his sister out of her shell, and made her less shy. Georgiana herself had admitted, several times, that she really liked Lady Felicity, and that she was not like other women who pretended to be interested in her only to get to her brothers, but was genuinely concerned about her.

But never in his life had he seen Georgiana so taken with anyone as she had become, in only a few hours, with Miss Elizabeth. After their initial meeting, Georgiana had come home slightly disappointed. Darcy himself had been surprised that Miss Elizabeth had not shown her customary friendliness towards his sister on the day that they had first visited the Gardiner's at Gracechurch Street. But all that had been overthrown yesterday night, in just half an hour, for when he had gone upstairs to inquire after George's whereabouts, he had seen, with great astonishment the easy camaraderie between the two would be sisters. He was happy to see his sister happy, but the fact of Miss Elizabeth's rendezvous with George in the library at Netherfield was still troubling him. Barring that occurrence, Miss Elizabeth would have been an ideal companion for Georgiana, but that incident could not be barred and so Darcy was not exactly sure what he thought about the growing intimacy between his sister and Miss Elizabeth.

He got up and pulled the bell and was tying the knot of his night gown's belt when his valet entered. Darcy momentarily shut his eyes as Smyth quickly pulled the curtains apart, and then went to take a bath which he knew would be already prepared. Such was the efficiency of his valet, except for their time at Netherfield and for that he was not to be blamed. Darcy dressed and descended down the stairs wondering if George had come back or not.

"Mr. Darcy," his housekeeper for the townhouse curtseyed and Darcy nodded.

"Has my brother returned yet Mrs. Margrave?" He asked before entering the breakfast parlour.

"Not yet, sir."

"And my sister, has she left for her morning excursion?"

"Only a minute ago, sir."

"Thank you," he said and then entered the breakfast parlour, while still pondering the dinner last night.

The Gardiner's had yet again proved that they were people of good character and impeccable bearing, which, considering their relationship with the voluble Mrs. Bennet, was something to be thankful for. Having woken up late, Darcy settled for a light breakfast and thought about his Uncle while buttering his toast. The Earl of Matlock and his wife had expressed a wish to be introduced to George's future wife and Darcy also thought it was about time that the Earl knew what his nephew was marrying into. The Gardiners, though in trade, were genteel enough, he was sure, even for the fastidiousness of his Uncle and as for Mrs. Bennet, well there was no cure for her now, was there?

Miss Elizabeth, he could not feel ashamed of, despite her misconduct in the library at Netherfield. She always comported herself with grace and was an excellent conversationalist, even though a little rigid in her opinions, but then, so were all the guests that he planned to invite, the list being pretty small. He had decided that besides his Aunt and Uncle and his cousin Col. Richard Fitzwilliam, who was to arrive in town that very day, he would also invite his cousin Miss Anne de Bourgh. Anne was also engaged to Richard and was currently staying at the Matlock House but would be shifting to the Darcy House soon, for she was meant to leave with them for Pemberley.

Darcy finished the breakfast quickly and repaired to his study, his mind still on his brother's prolonged absence. He sat perusing the morning paper on his desk as George stumbled in, his eyes swollen, clothes crumpled.

"Did you sleep in these," Darcy raised an eyebrow and looked at the disheveled appearance of his brother with disapproval and distaste.

"Have mercy, William," George wailed as he dropped on the couch by the window, "and do order some strong coffee, I feel rather wobbly."

"It is called a hangover," Darcy drawled as he pulled the bell next to his writing desk, "and you deserve it."

The footman entered and was ordered by Darcy to bring some coffee and by George to shut the curtains since the sunlight was hurting his eyes.

"Where did you take off to last night?" Darcy asked discarding the paper. He knew full well where his brother had been, but he had to open the topic with the aid of some question or another.

"You know where," George said sullenly, "now stop talking, your voice grates on my nerves."

"As your behaviour does on mine," Darcy shrugged his shoulders as if not caring much for George's **nerves, **"you must learn to deal with my voice as best as I have learned to do with your irresponsible attitude."

"Farnsworth needed me," George covered his eyes with his hand and said weakly.

"To do what," Darcy mocked, "hold his hair while he vomited his guts out as a result of excessive drinking?" Darcy was well aware that all Farnsworth needed was someone to order around, all the better if that someone turned out to be an excellent drinking companion.

"He is my friend," came another pathetic excuse, Darcy rolled his eyes.

"And she is your intended," Darcy told him firmly, "there is no contest between the two but Miss Elizabeth deserves your attention more than he does."

"I did pay her attention," George sat up and held his head in his hands, "besides you were there to entertain them."

"Need I remind you that the Gardiners and the Bennets were your guests and not mine," Darcy told him hotly as he remembered Mr. Gardiner's expression when he had told him that George had to leave in such a hurry because a very old friend of his was ill and needed him rather urgently. The disbelief written plainly there had cut him to the core, "when are you going to learn to start taking your responsibilities seriously?"

George was spared from answering any question by a knock on the door. The coffee was served and the footman exited just as quietly as he had come. Darcy came to sit by George and made coffee for him just the way he liked, knowing full well that he was in no state to do so himself. George looked thankfully at him from his weary eyes and gulped the hot liquid with relief.

"You are going to start a new life soon, George," Darcy said gently, "Krenmoral is not Pemberley, but it is a vast property nonetheless, and the sooner you prepare yourself for the responsibility of running an estate as well as a household full of servants, not to mention a rather headstrong wife," here both of them smiled slightly and some of the tension was cleared, "the easier it would be for you to adjust to the new routine."

"I will William," he smiled weekly after gulping down most of the coffee, "and I will prove myself worthy also, to you and to Elizabeth."

"When you abandoned her here last night," he asked derisively, "were you attempting to do **that?"**

"I should not have done that," he said remorsefully, "but you know Farnsworth, he has such a hold over me."

"Because you let him order you around," Darcy tried to reason with his younger brother, "you are a grown man, George. Do not allow your friendship to take over your life." George nodded and then silently emptied his cup.

"When do you plan to have the engagement announced in the paper," Darcy asked after a moment's silence, "hardly three weeks are left till the wedding?"

"Oh I had completely forgotten about it," George sat up a little, "I shall do it soon and the invites to the reception as well. You can leave that to me."

Darcy felt pleased at his brother's easy acquiescence in at least one matter, and felt some hope that perhaps the fiery eyed and tempered Miss Elizabeth might work a change in him yet. She had seemed in a much better mood at dinner last night and had conversed easily with everyone along with managing to keep her mother from uttering too much drivel, perhaps she could stop George from getting up to anymore mischief after their marriage.

"Gina told me that you had promised to meet her and Miss Elizabeth at Hyde Park this morning," Darcy looked questioningly at him and George averted his eyes, he evidently could not venture into sunlight today, "should I send a note to her that you shall not be coming then?"

"Oh no," George looked up quickly, "Gina would be crushed. Why do **you** not go there? It shall cheer you up as well, you haven't stirred outdoors ever since we came back from Hertfordshire," Darcy panicked, he did not want to spend too much time in Miss Elizabeth's company, she baffled him. George observed the hesitation on Darcy's face and urged him further, "come man, maybe you'll find Lady Felicity there as well," he teased and Darcy's face reddened.

"Do not blush William," George stood up and moved towards the door, "you look ridiculous."

George's sentence before he exited the room only served to heighten Darcy's colour some more. But the idea of happening upon Lady Felicity had its merits as well. Suddenly he felt excited to meet her, he had had overindulgence in impertinence from one woman, and was ready now to meet one who never challenged him, except in a good way. He looked down at his attire and it seemed appropriate for a morning excursion to the most fashionable park in town. Since Georgiana had already left a half hour ago, he decided to follow her immediately.

* * *

Darcy entered the park and walked towards Georgiana's favourite path, raising his hat to several acquaintances on his way, but stopping to meet no one. He quickened his step as he saw Georgiana standing with the very person he had wanted to see, Lady Felicity. Darcy smiled and felt relaxed. Lady Felicity's cousin Miss Stark was also with them, but no Miss Elizabeth. Georgiana waved at him as she saw him and the other two women also looked in his direction, for some reason they did not seem pleased. Darcy's smile turned into a frown as he rounded the water fountain, but the frown was replaced with awe as he collided headlong with Miss Elizabeth who was coming from the other side.

"Miss Elizabeth," he croaked, holding her by her shoulders.

"Mr. Darcy," she quickly stepped away from his almost embrace with a crimson countenance and dropped him a quick curtsey.

"I was wondering where you could be when I saw only Georgiana by the hedge," he cleared his throat and said by way of a conversation opener, when inside all he could think of was why his heart was pounding so forcefully, it had not done so when he had spotted Lady Felicity.

"Oh," she turned around and threw the three ladies a smile that might have bewitched Darcy if he had been on the receiving end, "Georgiana met some friends and I came here to take a look at the fountain," she turned back towards him her eyes reflecting the rays of the sun that made them look more like fire than ever before.

"Do you think it an ugly old thing?" Darcy's voice became slightly teasing as he asked on an impulse, recalling an earlier conversation, about the fountain at Netherfield Park, that they had had one morning while she was staying there to take care of her sister.

"I shall not be demanding its instant removal anytime soon, if that is what you fear," she dimpled and her teeth flashed as Darcy was again reminded of the same day, but this time of something that Miss Bingley had said. He inadvertently smiled as well, unaware of how the ladies standing next to Georgiana perceived the scene.

"Shall we?" He offered her his arm and she took it in her usual graceful manner as they proceeded towards the hedge by which Georgiana was standing with her companions.

Darcy bowed to the women and they curtseyed. The air seemed tinged with discomfort for some reason that he could not fathom. Lady Felicity kept her eyes averted while Miss Stark silently glared at him. Darcy was at a complete loss as to why they seemed a bit miffed with him.

"We have not seen you much," Miss Stark began in an accusatory tone, "since you have returned from Hertfordshire."

"Oh we have been busy with the newest addition to our family," Georgiana lovingly held out a hand to Miss Elizabeth who caught it quickly, giving her a smile, "and William has been busier than even George and me, for he has to take care of all the wedding arrangements as well."

He watched Lady Felicity wince slightly and again wondered what could be wrong. Her normally radiant complexion looked rather pale as well.

"Are you well, Lady Felicity?" Darcy asked her directly this time and she looked startled at being addressed thus.

"As well as can be expected," she told him, finally raising her eyes to his face. _'What the deuce does that mean?' _He wondered but kept his thoughts to himself.

"We are getting late for a morning visit," Miss Stark said quickly and both cousins interlaced their arms after curtseying to them and quickly walked off without telling Miss Elizabeth that it was nice to meet her, which was the norm, even if they had felt quite the contrary. Darcy could not understand this sudden attack of ill-manners in previously perfectly unassuming ladies.

He turned towards Miss Elizabeth to gauge her reaction but she was facing the other way. Darcy raised his top hat to an acquaintance and observed the baffled look on Georgiana's face, even she had felt the snub.

"Umm…Lady Felicity was probably not feeling too well," she offered by way of an apology.

"It is all right," she turned towards them, her voice seemed tight, "it is not the first time that I have been snubbed this way," she looked pointedly at Darcy who felt a momentary embarrassment at her words, for he had behaved no better on their first meeting, "and nor is it going to be the last." Darcy felt that she was a proud woman, who would take any personal slight rather seriously and yet she did not seem to be one to hold grudges and so an insult could be erased off her memory with an improved behaviour.

"Where is your brother?" She turned towards him suddenly and asked, "has he not returned from where he went last night?" He could see that she was thoroughly enjoying his discomfiture as he shifted his weight from one foot to the other.

"He did," Darcy said feeling thoroughly fed up with making excuses for George, especially now that his purpose in coming here had also failed miserably, "but he was not feeling too well, today."

"I hope he has not caught anything from his friend," she said with a broad smile, "that would be most unfortunate."

For a moment Darcy thought that she was going to accompany her statement with a wink, which she, thankfully, did not and he was left to answer Georgiana's hurried inquiries after George. As they proceeded on the path, Darcy thought it best to invite her for the dinner with his relatives which she accepted, with grace, as she did everything else.

"Tell me about your Uncle," she looked up at him as they walked with Darcy in the middle and the ladies on his either side, "should I be afraid?" Her eyes danced and he knew that she was merely teasing him, for even if he told her to be cautious in the Earl's company, she would not be.

"You could try," he replied dryly and she chuckled.

"Is he stern? She went on with her inquiries.

"Yes," he said simply, for the Earl was rather formidable.

"Like you?" She teased again and Georgiana immediately came to his defense.

"William is not stern," she told her smiling up at him, "he is the sweetest tempered person I have ever met."

Darcy felt embarrassed at being called sweet, after all, men much prefer to be called stern rather than sweet. He looked towards Miss Elizabeth who was looking at Georgiana in some surprise.

"You do not believe it Miss Elizabeth," he felt compelled to ask.

"I could tell you but I do not want to break our truce from last night," she said with false sincerity, while staring ahead.

"This very statement refutes that truce in a way," he pulled his arm closer involuntarily and her grip tightened on it, "but I shall ignore your taunt for now as I have a reputation to uphold."

"Why Mr. Darcy," she suddenly turned towards him, her eyes brimming with mirth, "Georgiana was right, you really are **sweet."**

Darcy's colour rose involuntarily as he tried to look away from her eyes but could not.

"Do not blush, William," Georgiana teased. It seemed as though Miss Elizabeth had trained her well in a few hours, "you look ridiculous." Darcy groaned at being told the same thing a second time that day.

It was Georgiana who started to giggle first, Miss Elizabeth joined in afterwards and at last Darcy grinned as well unaware of the eyes upon them.

* * *

"Come away Felicity," Margaret pulled her cousin's arm in order to get her away from the scene of heartbreak playing out a little distance away, "it is no use torturing yourself. He is an engaged man now."

"I cannot believe it Marge," she turned her tortured eyes towards her cousin as they filled up with tears, "how could he do this, he who is so honourable, so upright?"

"To be fair, dearest," Margaret handed her a handkerchief, "he never paid you any marked attention." Margaret Stark was a plain woman in her late twenties, already labeled as an old maid by some. But what she lacked in looks, she more than made up in money and intellect. It was her deep insight into the human heart that had led her to reject several proposals because she knew that none of them wanted her for the right reasons, and it was exactly that, which had enabled her to see, what might have escaped the eye of an ordinary person, that Miss Bennet had indeed a hold on Mr. Darcy.

"But it was marked attention if you consider what a reserved man he generally is," Felicity argued discreetly dabbing at her eyes, it would be no use making a spectacle of herself in public.

"Yes," Margaret nodded, "but was it even remotely comparable to the way he is looking at Miss Bennet?" She asked Felicity and the poor woman knew that her cousin was correct, "he is obviously infatuated with her. Did you not see the way he looked at her as they stood by the fountain? He did not seem reserved to me then. How easily had he smiled with her, as if they shared a joke, no one else in the world knew."

"Even if what you say is true," she said morosely as they stepped out of the park and moved towards their carriage, "it does not change the fact that he is responsible for the crack in my heart, Marge. Oh how could I have been such a fool, to have thought that he had any designs on me?"

"We are all fools in love," she told her sadly and they entered the carriage. As the carriage moved on, Felicity gazed out the window and her eyes locked on to the man she had hopelessly fallen in love with, the very man who had eyes for no one but the lively creature on his arm as he smiled at something she said. A smile she had rarely seen before.

* * *

Elizabeth's eyes stung lightly as she looked at the beautiful young girl walking besides her. It felt as though she had been compensated for at least one thing, even though she was being torn apart from Jane, she would have someone fairly similar to her to depend upon in her future life.

"…and so I did," Georgiana Darcy turned towards her as her short tale of how she learnt to play some tune or the other ended.

"That is wonderful, dearest," Elizabeth called her by the endearment that she usually reserved for Jane, without knowing. Georgiana flushed with pleasure and looked shyly up at her.

"So do you like the park?" She asked as they progressed down the path.

"It is…nice," Elizabeth told her looking around. She had never been much fond of artificially created scenery, always preferring a natural landscape.

"You must be more fond of natural scenery," Georgiana said understandingly, "as is my brother, he never comes here either."

"George?" She asked her in surprise, not having considered him a fan of the nature.

"No, William."

"Oh," Elizabeth felt at a loss for words, as she realized that she did have one thing in common with the tall, enigmatic man that she had spent so many hours thinking about ever since he had entered her life.

"Did you think I was talking about George?" Georgiana teased lightly, "for you must always be thinking of him."

"No indeed," Elizabeth tried to smile but failed, nothing could be further from the truth, "besides, I do no think that your brother would be interested in nature."

"One is," Georgiana said pleasantly as they turned aside to let two some children pass, "but both my brothers are very different from each other."

"I can see that," Elizabeth thought of the Darcy brothers, one tall and formidable the other tall and dishonourable, "both in appearance and demeanor."

"Oh yes," Georgiana said enthusiastically, "it is amazing how different they are from each other. The only thing they have common between them is their love for me and of course, their name."

"Their name?" Elizabeth looked questioningly at her for as far as she knew their names were **very **different.

"Do you not know," Georgiana stopped near a tall hedgerow, "they have the same name, with only one difference. William's is Fitzwilliam George Marcus Darcy and George's is Fitzwilliam George Wickham Darcy."

"But why were they named so," Elizabeth was surprised at this revelation, "does it not get confusing for people outside your sphere of close acquaintances?"

"It does sometimes," Georgiana shrugged her shoulders as they recommenced their walk, "but that is primarily the reason why William is known by his first name and George by his second, to avoid any misunderstanding. My mother, you see, was adamant about the fact that both her sons should be named after her father, and my father, hopelessly in love with her as he was, never said no to her."

Elizabeth smiled, it felt good to know that at least someone had spent a life full of love and fulfillment in the family that she was about to become a part of.

"Your mother sounds like a very interesting woman," Elizabeth looked towards her companion whose face lit up at the mention of her mother.

"I never knew her, but by all accounts she was an exceptional person," Georgiana's face became animated, "she made such incredible changes to our home, Pemberley. Her time there, short as it was, really turned it into a home we all feel proud of. You would love Pemberley," Georgiana went on happily planning a future that seemed bleak at best to Elizabeth, "there are natural paths and untouched land and a stream as well."

"Indeed," Elizabeth sighed, "but I am leaving for Krenmoral after the wedding." A prospect that disheartened her so much, she could barely think about it let alone look forward to it. Then she suddenly looked up from her morose thoughts towards Georgiana, "would you come with us to Cheshire, Georgiana?"

"Immediately?" The soft-spoken young girl looked alarmed and then blushed, "would you not like to be alone with George after…ahem…your wedding?"

Elizabeth went pale, the very thought of being alone with him made her hair stand on edge. Even though she had tried to be strong in the face of her current horrible situation, she could not deny that she had become oddly afraid of the prospect of spending anytime with out a chaperone with George.

"I would be happy to have your company while your brother is busy with estate matters," she told her sincerely, "and you would also be a solace to me in the absence of my dear sister Jane. You remind me so much of her." Georgiana had the same fair hair, the same blue eyes and the same pure heart like Jane, and Elizabeth had learned to appreciate the innate goodness of her heart just as she cherished that of her beloved sister's.

"I shall be delighted to," Georgiana squeezed her hand, "I cannot tell you how I have longed to have a sister, to share everything with. You do not know the blessing you are to me."

"And you to me," Elizabeth felt much lighter than she had in days, even though she was losing all her family, at least she was gaining a sister worth having.

"Miss Darcy," suddenly they were accosted by two fashionable looking women, one of them uncommonly pretty and the other ordinary to look at but with a pleasant air about her. Georgiana curtseyed hastily but happily and then introduced them to each other.

"Elizabeth these are very dear friends of our family, Lady Felicity Barrington and Miss Margaret Stark," she told her and Elizabeth's curiosity was at last satisfied on beholding the much talked about (by George) Lady Felicity. She was beautiful to be sure with perfect features and a breathtaking smile. She imagined her with the tall and aloof Mr. Darcy and decided that they should make a handsome couple indeed, why that made her slightly gloomy, she had no intention of exploring, "and may I present, the newest addition to our family, Miss Elizabeth Bennet, my brother's betrothed."

Elizabeth curtseyed promptly as did the other two, but their countenances lost some of their humour.

"So it is true," Lady Felicity stared at Elizabeth with a strange unblinking gaze, "we had heard the rumour."

"Oh it must be George's doing," Georgiana laughed, unaware of the undercurrent of unease among the other women, "even though William told him not to spread the news until it appears in the paper."

"Pray, when is the wedding?" Miss Stark asked quickly.

"In about three weeks," Georgiana told them with glee, "you would be invited to the reception, of course."

They nodded and Elizabeth thought it best to erase the discomfort of everyone by removing herself from the scene and so she excused herself on the plea of taking a look at the fountain and that is where she ran into Mr. Darcy, quite literally. _'Oh why does he affect me so?' _She wondered as she stepped away quickly from him. The tension still continued as they approached Georgiana and her two friends, until it culminated into Lady Felicity and Miss Stark giving her the snub and then walking away. She felt riled for a few minutes wondering if entering the ton would also mean getting a cut from the **higher ones **all the time. Her aunt was right, there was room for only happiness or pride in one's life, and so in this instance she chose to enjoy the walk and forget the injury to her already wounded pride. She thought it best to disregard the women who she would rarely, if ever, see again.

She looked at Mr. Darcy and Georgiana and smiled at the picture they presented, that of a doting brother and a content sister. If only she had also had the privilege of being loved as well as protected by a brother like Mr. Darcy or even George, for she did not doubt his commitment to Georgiana's well being, she probably have been saved from a situation that she found herself in currently.

Elizabeth sighed and let her hand drop from Mr. Darcy's arm, slowing her pace deliberately to let the siblings outstrip her as she got lost in her own world, a world where she felt all alone with no Jane to hold her hand, no Charlotte to bring her to reason and no Papa to make her laugh. She had written to both her sister and friend, telling Jane to ask Papa if she could invite Charlotte to her wedding as well and telling Charlotte to come for she needed her to reassure her that everything would be alright.

Mr. Darcy turned around and looked questioningly at her and she shrugged, not wanting to join them or to admit to what she had been thinking. She was glad however that she had agreed not to argue with him anymore, stimulating as the arguments had been. He made contradictory emotions rise in her, she had thought him arrogant and rude initially but had seen his considerate side as well, and for some reason, that impression has lingered despite her subsequent fall from grace and the arguments that followed.

She stared at his broad back as he whispered something in his sister's ear that made her giggle. At times it felt as though he thought her just as culpable as his brother for what had happened but then he suddenly looked kindly at her and she hoped that perhaps he did not. For some reason, it was important to Elizabeth that he thought well of her, that he respected her as he ought, that he knew her blamelessness in the matter of her blatant compromise at George's hand.

George, she sighed and told the Darcys that she would like to sit down on the bench **alone, **fortunately they took the hint and proceeded without her. What kind of a man was her husband to be if he did not feel even a moment's hesitation or remorse at leaving his guests and sauntering off with a friend, without sparing a thought for how it would be perceived by them? _'I love you,' _his false words uttered with a surprising sincerity rang in her ears and she grunted in derision. She was sure now that he wanted her for his wife only because he could not have her otherwise, his constantly altering behaviour was proof enough of that. If only there was someone who could save her from this hopeless situation…

"It is time we left," she was jolted out of her morbid musings by Mr. Darcy's deep voice as he stood before Elizabeth, looking curiously at her.

"Yes, of course," she quickly stood up and walked towards the carriage with them.

"I shall come to invite the Gardiners and Mrs. Bennet personally for the dinner with the Earl," he told her as he helped her and then Georgiana into the carriage.

Elizabeth nodded, already dreading how her mother would behave at that dinner, and yet hoping against hopes that the Earl would be so appalled by them that he would order the Darcy brothers to call the marriage off. That thought cheered her up so much that she smiled fully at Georgiana and then engaged her into a pleasant conversation until it was time to say farewell.

* * *

Elizabeth's excitement on the day of the dinner was palpable and observed therefore by her Aunt and Uncle as well, her mother however remained unaware of her daughter's unnaturally bright mood for she was all aflutter for her own appearance and performance, for an Earl was to be impressed. The Gardiners wrongly attributed her high spirits to the softening of her heart towards Mr. George Darcy and therefore thought it a good sign.

Elizabeth alone knew the scandalous plan that she had concocted in order to end her engagement with George, once and for all, without anyone of the significant people knowing about the role she was to play in its termination.

"Yes," she told Martha as the poor maid struggled to get her thick mane into the style she was dictating her to follow, "right here," Elizabeth pointed towards the right side of her head and Martha expertly twisted a lock of her beautiful chestnut hair and then pinned it tightly after inserting a pearl into it.

"Would you like feathers in your hair as well, miss?" She asked after finishing with the task at hand.

"I am already too tall," Elizabeth smiled at her image in approval, "thank you Martha, you have done a wonderful job." The maid curtseyed and left.

Elizabeth kept standing in front of the mirror as a rather mischievous smile played upon her lips. _'Yes,' _she thought with satisfaction, _'if only I can get my mother and Georgiana out of the picture, I can safely end this farce of an engagement tonight without anyone suspecting me of having done anything at all.'_

* * *

The carriage ride was spent by her Aunt and Uncle trying to curtail her mother's exuberance and explaining to her why it was important to hold her tongue in front of the Earl of Matlock and by Elizabeth, hoping that Mrs. Bennet would do no such thing. But she only spent a small amount of time thinking about her mother when it was her own behaviour that was going to decide her fate that night.

Elizabeth took a deep breath and stepped down the carriage. George and Mr. Darcy were there to greet them, and Elizabeth for the first time during their acquaintance, gave both of them her hand to bow over, feeling confident that it would be the last time as well. George took her hand with alacrity as he bowed over it while Mr. Darcy looked at her as if to ask, _'what is your game tonight?'_

She threw both of them a dazzling smile, that made the poor brothers forget to even blink. _'You'll know soon enough,' _she straightened her shoulders and took the arm of her betrothed as all of them entered the drawing room.

"My Uncle," George quickly took over the introductions and pointed towards a stately looking man, tall and graceful with matted fair hair and a striking resemblance to his younger nephew, "The Earl of Matlock."

"And Uncle, this is Miss Elizabeth Bennet," he had a proud note in his voice.

Elizabeth curtseyed and then raised her eyes to meet the Earl's squarely. His eyes, though wrinkled, were of the same colour as George Darcy's, but their expression, piercing and severe, was exactly like Mr. Darcy's eyes. Many a man must have flinched under such an unyielding gaze, but Elizabeth was, thankfully, immune to its intensity.

George moved from person to person and introduced everyone, curtseys were made as were bows, and before long, everyone was seated in comfortable chairs and awkward silence. The Earl's eyes were fastened to Mrs. Bennet's person in a manner that could only be called disapproving. Elizabeth felt unbounded joy at this proud display of arrogance from the Earl, for if a quiet and subdued Mrs. Bennet had successfully managed to wake his displeasure, what would happen when she opened her mouth? Her good spirits increased ten fold as she turned her smiling countenance towards Col. Fitzwilliam, the Earl's younger son.

"The second, Col.," she told him when he asked if this was her first time at the Darcy House, "I had the privilege of coming here a few days earlier as well, for dinner."

"It is a beautiful house," the pleasant mannered Col. continued, as his quiet fiancé sat uncomfortably by George's friend Baron Farnsworth, "but nothing to Pemberley."

"So everyone keeps telling me," she fought the urge to roll her eyes, but perhaps she had, unknowingly of course, rolled them a little, or so she assumed by the amused look on the face of the Col.

"Would you be going to Pemberley after your wedding," Lady Matlock asked her in well-bred if slightly authoritative accents, "Krenmoral or abroad?"

"I hardly know your ladyship," Elizabeth answered respectfully and thought with increasing confidence, _'hopefully, none of the above, your ladyship, for there shall be no wedding or at least not mine.'_

"But are you not going to Krenmoral, Elizabeth?" Georgiana spoke up from her place next to Mrs. Gardiner.

"We are not completely decided yet," George came to her defense as he threw her a puzzled look. Elizabeth simply shrugged.

The evening commenced uneventfully as Mrs. Gardiner kept Mrs. Bennet in check while Mr. Gardiner conversed on politics with the Earl and Mr. Darcy. Col. Fitzwilliam, however had decided to devote his evening to her, completely, to even the exclusion of his wife to be, who apparently thought nothing of it, for she was equally engrossed by her.

As soon as the ladies went back to the drawing room after dinner, leaving the men to their politics and port, Georgiana offered to take Mrs. Gardiner and Mrs. Bennet on a tour of the house, something that they had not been able to do the last time they were at Darcy House. Elizabeth felt a moment's remorse at using Georgiana as a pawn to further her scheme, for she had put the idea into her head, but it could not be helped. She did not want to pollute Georgiana's mind with the scene that was about to be played and her mother would only make everything worse with her shrieking when the engagement came to an end. _'Oh what sweet words,' _she felt a pleasurable anticipation, _'the engagement is to end.'_

As she sat around the fire with Lady Matlock and Miss De Bourgh making small talk and starting to feel slightly on edge, the Earl, Col. Fitzwilliam, George and his friend entered **without **Mr. Darcy and her Uncle. It was unfortunate that Mr. Darcy would not be able to know the truth and also that she would not be able to have her Uncle's support, but she could not wait anymore. Now all she needed was an opening which the Col. provided her most graciously.

"When is your father to come?" The Earl looked at her pointedly.

"A day or two before the wedding," she replied evenly, after all, the Earl would be nothing to her at the end of the evening, so why should she be afraid of him.

"Then who is to arrange the settlement?" He looked shocked.

"He has nothing to settle, my Lord," Elizabeth told him happily, "my father is penniless as far as the dowries of his daughters are concerned."

The Earl looked thunderous for a moment as she heard a discreet cough, meant to hide a chuckle, from her side. The Col. of course.

"I meant the marriage settlement **from George,** Miss Bennet," he said coldly and Elizabeth had the grace to blush.

"So I am yet to hear how old George proposed to you?" Col. Fitzwilliam asked pleasantly in an attempt to change the topic and Elizabeth felt the familiar rage slowly rising inside her again. This was the very opening she needed. Her heart began to thump in anger and excitement.

"Should I answer this question," she looked at George with hate burning in her eyes as she sat forward in her chair, "or would you?"

George flinched, and Elizabeth took it as her final cue to stop this madness once and for all.

"Very well then," she relaxed back into the sofa, "me, it is." She turned towards the Col. and even though she looked directly into his eyes, every word she said was angled only at the Earl, "your dear cousin **compromised **me at a ball, and then there was no solution except to get married." She turned back towards George's stunned countenance.

A deathly silence reigned the room as nothing but the tic tock of the great clock could be heard. The Earl stared, his wife had her hand on her ample bosom, Miss de Bourgh clutched the sides of her gown and even the Col. looked utterly astonished.

"Elizabeth," George finally cried after everyone had been silent for rather a long time.

"Do you deny it?" She asked standing up and moving towards the fireplace in agitation, "do you deny that you deviously plotted and schemed to get me alone, and very strategically arranged for my parents to walk in on us when you had me in a position that you could not possibly have had me in if you had not, with great insight, **drugged me?" **She shouted as her finger pointed accusatorily at him.

"What is the meaning of this George?" the Earl's voice boomed across the still room and hit Elizabeth like a bolt of lightening. She was no more playing a part to have the engagement ended, now she was only letting out the anger that had been simmering inside her since the day her father had disowned her. Everyone stared at George Darcy as he withered into a shadow of himself, his beautiful face looking ugly in its helplessness.

"I…Uncle," he was obviously in a predicament, he turned towards Elizabeth hotly, "why are you doing this?" He cried in exasperation, "have a care, Elizabeth, this is my family. You have no right to insult me as such in front of them."

Elizabeth laughed then, a frightening sound that bespoke great disturbance of mind, her face pale with suffering silently for so many days, her hands shaking with still unspent rage, her lips quivering with unsaid words.

"No right," She spat, "no right you say? Your impression in the eyes of your family is impression indeed, and what of my image in front of mine? If I do not have a right to tell you what an abominable scoundrel you are then pray tell me, who does? For your family does not seem to have the guts to do so. You compromised me in front of my parents, making my father disown me, his favourite daughter who he thought of as one of his most sensible and honourable children. Do you know what he thinks of me now?" She turned towards the rest of her silent audience and this time she did look into the piercing blue eyes of the Earl of Matlock, "he thinks I am a hoyden who cavorts with gentlemen of ample fortune in secluded corners of libraries." She was slowly merging into the fire that raged inside her, _'by God he would not get away with what he did,' _she seethed.

"So do not talk of your reputation in the eyes of your family to me," she whirled back towards a red faced George, "for you have no right to have **one** at all."

"What the deuce did you do George," The Col. Stood up abruptly and walked towards his cousin, "what the devil is going on?"

"So is this your way of having revenge on me," George took a step towards her, oblivious of the Col.'s questions, "I insulted you so you now want to return the favour," his voice was also steadily rising now.

"Was getting deliberately caught in a compromising position with me not a part of your revenge on me also," she stepped towards him as well, "for having slapped you after finding out about the repulsive designs you had on me?" Elizabeth's breathing had become erratic now, "so do not dare lecture me about revenge, for your culpability in indulging in just such an emotion can also not be denied."

"George, you rascal," the Col. thundered, "what on Earth have you been doing to this poor girl?" Miss de Bourgh quickly got up from her perch and went to him, placing a small hand on his arm in an attempt to cool him down.

"You ruined my life," Elizabeth's storm of rage was by no means over, but she was slowly coming back to reality, "divided me from my family, degraded me in their eyes and now are forcing me to marry you. Do you not see that we could **never** be happy together?" Her voice grew calm in the end as she asked him rationally.

"Why not?" George stepped closer and tried to take her hand but she quickly clasped hers behind her back, "we could, we would be happy Elizabeth. And stop being such a child now," he said irritably, "we shall go to Krenmoral after the wedding, reconcile our differences, have children and live happily ever after," he suddenly seemed all cool and collected and unperturbed by what had happened and Elizabeth's blood boiled once again, _'why does he not understand?'_

"Children?" She said spitefully, "you would be lucky if I allow you to hold my hand, without gloves, at the end of ten years."

The doors were thrown open and the Gardiners, Mrs. Bennet and the two remaining Darcys entered in a pleasant mood. Mrs. Bennet immediately began twittering about the length and breadth of the rooms and the décor and the walls. So Elizabeth had to cut her short.

"Would you please be kind enough to order our carriage Mr. Darcy," Elizabeth asked with a calm that she was far from feeling inside, "it is time we went home."

Mr. Darcy looked astonished for a moment but did not make any objections, the carriage was quickly ordered and stood promptly by the door. Elizabeth curtseyed to everyone, the deepest she reserved for the Earl. As their eyes met, Elizabeth's rage subsided quickly, replaced by hope that this peer of the realm would be able to release her from the prison of marriage to a deplorable villain. For how could he accept a woman so impertinent into his family?

As Elizabeth stepped outside the drawing room, one lone figure, whom everybody had forgotten about turned to look at her from his almost hidden position by the window, a devious smile playing upon his lips. Yes, Elizabeth had taken everything into account, from the absence of her mother to that of her betrothed's sister, but she had not reckoned with the presence of the force that was Baron Farnsworth.

**Next Chapter: Revenge is a Dish best served Cold**


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter 14: Revenge is a Dish Best Served Cold**

Elizabeth walked restlessly around the small morning parlour in the Gardiner's home, impatient for news from Darcy House. She wrung her hands as her aunt and mother discussed the grandeur of her future home; from the curtains to the rugs, the walls to the portraits, the crystal to the china, until she wanted to scream.

She had not been able to sleep all night, as images of the shocked countenances of the dinner guests crowded her mind. Until this morning she was sure of success, but the dark clouds outside brought uncertainty with them. Elizabeth's plan had been to reveal the manner in which she and George came to be engaged to the Earl, who, she hoped, would order George to break off the engagement immediately, for in his eyes she would be a fallen woman and not a good match for his nephew.

It had all seemed like an excellent and faultless scheme when she went to bed last night, but her confidence began to crumble slowly as the thunder roared outside. She hoped beyond hope that her cruel, though heartfelt, words would have effectively ended George's silly infatuation, that the Earl would deem her an impertinent chit and therefore wholly unsuitable for his scoundrel of a nephew, and that Lady Matlock would think her a disgrace to the family and therefore not eligible to enter the ton. She had, in fact, conspired to offend the whole Fitzwilliam clan till they had no option left but to ask her betrothed to end this engagement before the news of it spread.

She had wanted Mr. Darcy to be present at the scene as well, but could not lament his absence, for she still remembered his words to George in the Netherfield library:

_"George I warned you," _he had said in a cold voice_, "I told you that if I found you in a compromising situation with a lady again, you would have to marry her."_

This had made it clear to her that it was important to Mr. Darcy to avoid all manner of gossip and have them marry. If he had been present, he would have nipped her little tantrum in the bud, but since he had not been there to either witness or stop her outburst, she hoped that he would neither find out nor help to erase its repercussions.

As far as her family was concerned, she had wanted the Gardiners to be with her, knowing full well that her aunt and uncle would support her in everything; but again, she could not repent their absence, for she had achieved what she had set out to do regardless. The only person who would still have insisted that she marry George was her father, and since he had thought it unnecessary to spend any time with her before she was separated from him forever, he would not be able to do anything about what was, hopefully, about to happen.

Elizabeth ignored her aunt's furtive looks, and disregarded the children's requests to play, as she stood by the window and stared at the gloomy morning outside. She wondered, as she rubbed her arms to feel some warmth, whether George would come himself to tell her that the wedding stood cancelled, indefinitely. It was possible that he would not want to see her again, and would therefore send his brother and sister to do his bidding.

That thought was somehow pleasanter to her. Elizabeth placed her hand on the cold glass of the window; she would like very much to meet both Mr. Darcy and Georgiana for one last time before the inevitable separation befell them. Short as her time had been with the sweet young girl who reminded her so much of Jane, it had been long enough to generate feelings of a close friendship between them. That was perhaps the only thing that she was going to regret. As for Mr. Darcy, their whole acquaintance had been so full of ups and downs that she hardly knew what to make of it. But even though he had been proud and condescending in the beginning, he had also been kind and considerate afterwards, before his opinion of her went completely downhill when he found her with his brother in the library. Elizabeth sighed and watched dully as the rain drops started to fall slowly at first and then pick up momentum.

But it had not all been bad, she thought. They had also laughed together, and he had smiled that rare smile of his in her presence. The air had cleared between the two of them, since he had asked her, in front of his mother's portrait, to stop arguing with him. And yes, she did feel a certain pull towards him, a strange concern for his well being that was impossible to explain. She clenched her fist; this was all too new and too unimportant to be paid much attention to, and would soon become part of a past that she would much rather forget.

She stared at the marks her nails had left on her palm as she unclenched her fingers and pondered her future. Once the engagement was broken off, she would ask her Uncle to procure her a position as a governess at some house or another, since going back to Longbourn was not an option anymore. She had once told Mr. Darcy, in the heat of the moment, that _'her self-respect alone forbade her to go where she was unwanted__' _and the same was true for her father's house. If he did not want her there to tarnish the reputations of the rest of his daughters, though no one knew about what had happened in the Netherfield library, he would get his wish. She would not show her face to him ever again.

"Mr. George Darcy, Miss Darcy and Baron Farnsworth," the maid announced. Elizabeth turned around quickly, her eyes encountering George's, and it was plain to see that he was not pleased with her. She felt encouraged by this, and curtseyed before she took her seat by Georgiana, while her aunt and mother welcomed them.

"How do you do Miss Bennet?" Baron Farnsworth asked her in his lazy drawl.

"Well, sir," she lied, "and yourself?" He simply nodded his head and half closed his pale eyes.

"You left in such a hurry last night, Elizabeth," Georgiana said to her in a low voice, "I wanted to hear you play; George says you do it admirably."

"She did give a performance yesterday, Gina," George mocked, his eyes fixed on Elizabeth's blushing countenance, "but you missed it while you were touring the house with Mrs. Gardiner and Mrs. Bennet."

"I am sorry to hear it," Georgiana turned towards Elizabeth, "but perhaps another time; after all, we are to be sisters soon."

Elizabeth could not return her smile as her heart dipped down. She turned sharply towards George and he returned her gaze steadily, without blinking, his eyes a deep stormy ocean, the waves of which were drowning her, cutting her last breath, her last hope. Suddenly, she could not take it anymore. She abruptly got up and went to stand by the window. All the dreams and expectations that had risen steadily in her heart lay in tatters around her after the events of last night, mocking her stupidity, laughing at her folly.

"Lizzy, what are you doing by the window?" Mrs. Bennet's voice pierced through the room. Elizabeth wanted to cover her ears and run out into the rain, to merge with the water and evaporate with it whenever the sun came out. "Come sit by Mr. George; after all, he has come to meet you in such disastrous weather."

"I am just checking to see if the rain has stopped, Mama." Elizabeth would not dare turn around for fear of breaking down completely. Luckily her aunt started asking George about Krenmoral and her mother started quizzing Georgiana about the china and cutlery pieces.

Elizabeth felt a presence behind her; she sucked in a breath and was about to turn around when a hand appeared near her elbow, holding out a handkerchief.

"Not yet, sir," she turned around and smiled weakly at the heavyset young Baron standing behind her.

"I know how you feel, Miss Bennet," he said softly and Elizabeth stiffened.

"Do you?"

"The Earl was most sympathetic, I assure you," he drawled.

"Indeed?" was all she could manage.

"But you must know, Miss Bennet," he continued unperturbed despite her clipped answers, "the Darcys and the Fitzwilliams of this world hold nothing dearer than the respect attached to their family name, and to them avoiding a scandal is always preferable to living happily ever after."

"You amaze me, sir," she mocked.

The Earl's sympathy was not going to change her future; it rather sealed it quite effectively as well as permanently. George was her future now, and the sooner she made the transition from loathing him to thinking of him as her husband, the easier life was going to be for them both.

"Not as much as you amazed me yesterday," he said softly, "I have never seen anyone speak like that in front of the Earl of Matlock."

"Yes, but all that seems to have been for naught," she said dully, as she turned around and took a deep breath as if preparing herself for a battle, "now if you'll excuse me, I have guests to attend to."

* * *

Darcy cursed at George's stupidity. His brother was officially the most lackadaisical person in the whole of England.

"Darcy, would you please relax?" Richard gobbled down the delectable muffins that were the specialty of the cook at the Darcys' London house, "All this cursing is making me think that you are not the ever proper Darcy at all."

"First, the announcement in the papers," Darcy pushed his tea away in irritation, "and now the invitation letters. How is such carelessness to be corrected?"

"I know that it is a strange thing to be neglectful about," Anne said in her gentle voice, quietly sipping her tea, "but we all know how George is, William. Do not become stressed."

"Technically speaking," Richard spoke with his mouth full and Darcy wondered why he always ate like a starved beggar, "he is also 'Mr. Darcy'. Perhaps he wanted to assert that in the paper and the invitations."

"Oh for heaven's sake, Richard," Darcy looked at him in irritation, "if this is the way he goes about the most important things in his life, I wonder in whose name he got the marriage license?"

Darcy was outraged, regretting the day he ever let his brother take charge of the wedding announcement and invitation letters. He raked his hand through his hair in agitation, as Richard and Anne looked lovingly at each other while sipping their tea. George had apparently forgotten to have his full name mentioned in either the newspaper or the letters, leaving it to be a vague "Mr. Darcy and Miss Bennet". He marveled at his carelessness; for all he knew, the whole town must be thinking it was Darcy himself getting married instead of George. But since only a week was left until the wedding, there was nothing to be done now but suffer in silence.

A foot traveled up his leg and jerked him out of his thoughts. Darcy turned sharply towards Richard and saw him eyeing Anne rather amorously. Darcy rolled his eyes, but thought it too rare an opportunity of embarrassing Richard to be let go so easily.

"Is something wrong with your foot, Richard?" Darcy asked as he looked at his cousin with deep amusement, while a bewildered Col. Fitzwilliam shook his head, his foot paralyzed on Darcy's calf. "Then why on Earth are you running it up and down my leg?"

The look on Richard's face almost compensated for the trouble George's actions had caused him, but Anne's mortified countenance was something he had not bargained for.

"Err… I was just checking to see, if…if," Richard floundered, to Darcy's utter amusement, "if your trousers were torn or not."

"That is quite enough Richard," Anne looked sternly at him, "do not dig yourself a deeper hole."

Richard groaned and Darcy chuckled as Anne excused herself and went upstairs to change for her appointed walk with Richard. Their presence in his life had taken off the stress of George's engagement and marriage, as in their company Darcy could relax and laugh. Laughter had never come easily to him, except in the company of the ones he was closest to, and of course with Miss Elizabeth as well. He sighed and pulled his teacup back, taking a small sip and then making a face as it had gone cold.

"Are you thinking of her again?" Richard asked, dabbing his mouth with a napkin.

"No," Darcy returned quickly and then realized his mistake, "about whom?" This was what he should have said first.

"Admit it Darcy," Richard wagged his brows, "you fancy her."

"Sod off, Richard," Darcy barked and stood up abruptly. _'Damn Richard,' _he thought irritably; he really did know him too well.

Darcy made his way purposefully to his study, knowing that Richard was following him. Richard's careless comment had reminded him of the night the Bennets and the Gardiners had come to dine with his uncle's family, as that was the first time Col. Richard Fitzwilliam had pronounced him to _'fancy Miss Elizabeth'. _That night had gone well, except that when he had entered the drawing room after the guests departed, he saw his uncle and cousin having a heated argument with George about how he came to be engaged to Miss Elizabeth.

As soon as the words, _'she was lying__in order to get into the good graces of my family, knowing full well that they would find out the truth of our relationship someday,' _left George's mouth, Darcy had left the room on the pretense of having to go over the marriage settlement papers that he had been discussing with Miss Elizabeth's uncle. He did not think he would be able to take anymore of the deception that George's future wife exuded in large quantities, feeling irritated and sad at the same time.

More than a week had passed since then, and they had all met frequently, going to the theatre, the opera and for walks. George always made sure that all the family were together, which was odd, as before now he had always avoided appearing with them in public. Darcy took it as a sign of his increasing sanity and was thankful for it. Appearing in public with the whole family saved Darcy the trouble of mingling with acquaintances that he cared nothing about, and was glad to leave the responsibility of being hospitable to George.

Miss Elizabeth seemed well pleased most of the time. She shared a good rapport with not only Georgiana and Anne, but also Richard. The three had even accompanied her to a modiste to order her wedding gown, which Anne and Georgiana had later not only raved about, but had also made a most bizarre request of Darcy: to imagine Miss Elizabeth in the gown. He had only groaned inwardly, wondering when this agony would end.

Be it the theatre, the opera, Darcy House or Gracechurch Street, there was no getting away from Miss Elizabeth's teasing presence. Initially, he had been glad that the presence of his cousins had reduced the need for him to talk to her, but then he had begun to resent even that. His conflicting and confusing emotions were always keeping him on edge in her presence, since George made it a point to always have them sit together in the theatre.

Darcy tried to close the study door behind him but Richard held it open as he entered after him. Darcy went straight to his desk while Richard sat right in front of him.

"Do not torture yourself about it, man," he began in a pleasant, teasing tenor, "Miss Elizabeth is a little hard to ignore when she looks at you with her sparkling eyes."

"Indeed," Darcy mocked, seething inside, _'I well know how difficult she is to ignore,' _he thought, "and here I was thinking that you were betrothed to Anne."

"A betrothed man can appreciate a beautiful woman when he comes across her, you know," Richard laughed, "it is not forbidden."

"For all your allegations of me fancying her," Darcy looked up from his papers and said stiffly, "it would appear that it is **you** who is harbouring the sentiment."

"I do not fancy her, Darcy, or Anne might have said something about it by now," Richard replied with a smile, "and your repeated denials are the testimony I need to know exactly how you feel."

"How I **feel?"** Darcy jumped, "she is going to be my sister in a few days for heaven's sake."

"And still you cannot stop thinking about her," Richard shrugged his shoulders and rolled the paper weight around on the shining surface of the old walnut table, "I think she suits you much better than she does George."

"Indeed?" Darcy raised an eyebrow as he felt a pleasant sensation inside at Richard's strange pronouncement.

"She is the only woman I know who does not let you have the last word in everything," Richard's brown eyes did not stray from Darcy's grey ones, "she would have kept you on your toes, and I believe that you would have liked it as well."

Darcy gulped, averting his eyes from his cousin's, _'this is madness,' _he thought, _'we are not having this highly improper discussion.'_

"I do not think that a woman found allowing my brother liberties is someone I could think suitable for myself," he said coldly. It was important to **always** keep the reason why he did not trust her in his mind; indeed, it was the only way to fight his steadily increasing attraction to her.

"You cannot believe that," Richard scoffed.

"I might not have if I had not seen it with my own eyes," Darcy's fingers gripped the pen more tightly than was required as the image of George's lips on her throat materialized in his mind once again.

"She says it was a hoax, engineered by George," Richard said disbelievingly and Darcy marveled at her ability to take in everyone so easily.

"Of course she would say that," he said indifferently, knowing well that it was useless to deter someone from the path towards liking Miss Elizabeth, once they had set upon it.

"When is her family arriving?" Richard changed the subject, to Darcy's relief, "I cannot help but be a little curious about them."

"In three days time," he told his cousin, "we shall all be going to the theatre two days before the wedding, and the Bennets and their friends shall be dining with us on the night before it. You shall have ample time to satisfy your curiosity on that account."

"I cannot wait to meet the famous Bennets," Richard grinned, "it shall be interesting."

"Most interesting, I assure you," Darcy smiled as well, thinking of how Mrs. Bennet would have reacted towards Richard if he had not been engaged.

Time flew faster than Darcy would have thought possible. He had always wondered what would compel George to start taking his duty seriously, but the question should not have been what, but whom, and the answer was, obviously, Miss Elizabeth. As he peeped through the open door of George's room, he found him hard at work, reading all the responses to the wedding invitations that he had sent. Darcy knocked and George bid him enter, but looked slightly alarmed as he observed him coming in and hastened to collect all the letters, stowing them away in the drawer.

"Aunt Catherine's not coming," George spoke quickly, as if trying to hide what was really on his mind, and looking somewhat unhappy as he said it.

"And that gives you cause for sadness?" Darcy teased, "I did not know that you harboured such strong feelings for our dear Aunt."

"I myself had no idea until now," George grinned at him, but then his expression suddenly became grave.

"Is something the matter with you?" Darcy asked him, stepping closer. He had been observing George's strange mood for some days now, he had even been avoiding Farnsworth, which was most unusual.

"No," George looked away, "why do you ask?"

"George, I admit that I do not know you well," Darcy stepped even closer as he placed his hand on his brother's shoulder. George closed his eyes for a moment, "and we are not as close as I would have liked us to be, and perhaps that is more my fault than yours." Darcy stopped and took a deep breath as he watched the pained expression on George's face, "but I am here for you, if you ever need me, if ever there is a problem you are facing, if ever there's a hole you are in. I hope you know that."

George stared at him for a moment and then hugged him fiercely, his tall, lean frame trembling slightly. Darcy felt astonished in the extreme as he uncomfortably patted his back.

"Are you in trouble, George?" Darcy asked gravely, his heart tightening at the thought of George being in a situation that drove him to hug his older brother, something that he had not done in years.

"No," his voice sounded muffled against Darcy's shoulder.

"Then what is it?" Darcy pushed him away to look at his face and when he saw tears in his eyes his heart clenched uncomfortably, "Tell me," Darcy insisted, discomfort enveloping him in its midst.

"It is nothing," George stepped away and wiped his face on his sleeve, looking like the small child that was Darcy's playmate years ago, when Mama was alive, when Papa was there, when they were whole, "I am just nervous about the wedding, I suppose."

"Do you not want to go through with it?" Darcy's grip on his shoulders increased.

"What if I do not," George turned his red rimmed eyes towards his brother, "it is too late to back out now. The family name shall be spoiled, as shall Gina's future prospects."

"George, your happiness means more to me than anything else in the world," Darcy said fervently, wanting nothing in that moment except to comfort his brother, "do you want out? Tell me."

George stared at him for a long moment and then threw down his head.

"No," he said turning away from Darcy, "I do love her you know," he stepped closer to the window, "she is unique. Anyone would be lucky to have her."

Darcy looked contemplatively at his brother for a while. Something was bothering him, but knowing George, he knew he would not confide in him. Perhaps it was as he said: he was just nervous about the wedding and the responsibilities marriage entailed. Darcy felt relieved for even though he had offered to call off the wedding, it was not a possibility anymore.

"Then get ready," he told George with a smile, "we are to go to the theatre with your in-laws." George half-turned and gave him a soft smile, just like their mother's. Darcy relaxed; of course nothing was wrong.

* * *

Elizabeth stepped out of the carriage and looked around to find George. The Darcys had come to collect some of their party for the commute to the theatre; the rest of them had come in the Gardiner's carriage. They soon spotted everyone assembled near the entrance. Both parties merged, and introductions were made, as the Matlocks were also in attendance. Within moments, Elizabeth found herself on the arm of her soon to be husband, which was a blessing in a way, for she had wished to speak with him alone.

They followed directly behind her parents, with Mrs. Bennet twittering as usual and Mr. Bennet silent as the grave. Elizabeth sighed and averted her eyes from her father's back. Mr. Bennet had not said a word to her beyond the usual greetings ever since he and her sisters, along with Charlotte, had come from Hertfordshire. This might have brought her spirits down even further, but Jane and Charlotte's presence, along with the wise counsel of her Aunt and Uncle, had kept her sanity intact.

The theatre was magnificent, and the people they encountered on their way to the Darcys' box were resplendent in their grandeur. But nothing could take her mind off what had happened after the dinner at Darcy House, or what was about to happen in three days' time. As George started to guide her towards the front rows, she firmly pulled his arm. He started and turned around towards her in surprise.

"We need to talk," she whispered, as everyone began filing in and sitting down, "I have something to say to you."

"And it cannot be said in front of the whole theatre?" he mocked, "Your sudden reticence astounds me." Elizabeth closed her eyes to compose herself, certain that this conversation was going to be difficult.

"Just humour me, all right?" she asked in exasperation.

"Ask me nicely," his eyes suddenly shone with mischief and Elizabeth rolled her eyes.

"Perhaps when you are dead and cold," she mocked and he suddenly laughed aloud, catching the attention of everyone present and making Elizabeth blush. "Oh you are just impossible," she fumed and pulled his arm towards the furthest row at the back of the box.

They quickly settled down and Elizabeth adjusted her shawl as she observed the occupants of their box. The three older couples sat in the front row. Behind them the Colonel sat between his betrothed and Charlotte, and Mr. Darcy between Jane and Mary. In the third row sat the voluble members of the Bennet clan: Lydia and Kitty, and between them sat none other than Baron Farnsworth. He had been visiting them regularly ever since her sisters had arrived in London, and seemed as though he had taken quite a fancy to Lydia. Elizabeth frowned slightly. Lydia was too young to be courted, but Mrs. Bennet's raptures knew no end, and therefore the Baron was encouraged just as much by her mother as by Lydia herself.

Mr. Bennet's behaviour seemed odd to her. One would have thought that after finding a daughter, who he had previously deemed sensible, in a compromising position, he would be more careful with regard to whom his daughters associated with, especially the ones he deemed silly. But he was still all blissful ignorance.

The play began and Elizabeth stared at the colourful stage, not knowing how to say what she wanted to say to George. Charlotte's reasoning, Jane's silent disapproval, and her own honour demanded that she apologize to George for blatantly trying to ruin his reputation in front of his family, regardless of what he had done to her. Elizabeth's sense of justice demanded it, though her heart cried out that she had not done anything wrong. But since she was sure that after marrying George her heart would only be used as an organ for pumping blood and not for harbouring tender emotions, she had already ignored its pleas. She needed to start practicing living life without a heart.

"I should not have done it," she whispered, bending a little towards him, but staring right ahead, without registering what was going on.

"Then why did you?" George turned towards her slowly, his eyes boring into hers.

"As a last resort to have the wedding called off," she said candidly, "but I realize now that it was all in vain."

He was silent but listening, staring at her in an odd manner.

"I was being selfish, of course," she sighed and turned towards him completely, both of them now oblivious to the play and their surroundings, "thinking only of myself, regardless of the damage to my sisters or yours, had the engagement been called off. It was an act born out of desperation and impulse."

"You do realize that your outburst that evening makes us both equally ignorant of how a family suffers when one of its members is degraded?" he asked seriously, keeping his voice low. Elizabeth nodded.

"Yes," she replied earnestly, "I am not denying the impropriety of my behaviour though it was nothing to yours," George winced and she continued, "only trying to justify its necessity for my peace of mind. I had to try one last time."

"Are there any more attempts that you plan to make between now and the wedding day?" George teased in a lighter tone.

"I might try to poison you during the interval," there was an edge to her voice that belied her casual manner, "but that would be too kind."

George chuckled softly and Baron Farnsworth turned around, giving him a questioning look and then turning back again, his hand dangerously close to Lydia's.

"We shall be getting married in two days," Elizabeth continued in the same manner, "and I would not like to start it on a bitter note, even though it is impossible to do it in any other way." She saw George's eyes expand slightly in surprise as she went on, "I shall not lie to you: we still have a long way to go in building trust in our relationship, too long it would appear, and it might never happen. But I am done trying to get out of the miserable situation that your thoughtlessness has put me in."

"Will you ever be able to love me, Elizabeth?" He asked and Elizabeth stiffened. This was a question she was hoping to avoid.

"I do not know," she said simply, and saw his face split in pain, "but who knows what the future holds for us? Stranger things have happened," she added quickly, but the sadness in his eyes seemed just as immovable as her dislike for him.

"Do you not find anything worth loving in me?" Suddenly his voice became pleading and his face that of a young boy asking for candy. Elizabeth, for the first time after their engagement, felt sorry for him. Sorry that he was so dishonourable, sorry that he would probably never change, sorry that he was in love with a woman who could not feel anything but contempt for him. She did not want to pain him anymore: she was tired of taunting him, of offending him, of hurting his feelings.

"You are very handsome," she blurted out suddenly, wanting the tension to be gone, to relax and leave all her sorrows behind.

George laughed out loud at that, and this time almost everyone in their party turned around. Elizabeth felt slightly embarrassed.

"If you would rather marry someone other than me," George asked her curiously, "who would it be?"

Elizabeth's eyes briefly flitted towards a dark head and then she averted them quickly. _'What nonsense am I indulging in?'_

"I do not believe in idle imaginings," she told him in a matter of fact way, "I shall marry you, George." She did not realize that his name had slipped off her tongue.

George Darcy stared at her for a long moment, something flickering in his eyes, something that was difficult to comprehend clearly in the semi darkness of the box.

"Say it again," he requested quietly.

"What," she looked confused, "that I do not indulge in idle imaginings?"

"No," he said gently, "my name. This is the first time that you have called me by my name."

"Oh," Elizabeth shrugged her shoulders, chiding herself for being so careless but maintaining an indifferent façade outwardly, "some other time perhaps," she said drily and then faced the stage determinedly, "now let us watch the play."

Elizabeth had told him to watch the play, but could not concentrate herself. Only on the advice of her friends, had she talked to him and had tried to clear the air between the two of them before the wedding, the mere thought of which was still extremely disturbing, to her George or his feelings meant absolutely nothing. She sighed and clapped with everyone as the curtains came down for the interval.

Everyone stood up and formed groups as the two Darcy brothers and the Baron stepped out to get the ladies drinks and to greet some people they knew. While the older ladies discussed Elizabeth's trousseau and the younger ones the ensembles worn by the fashionable ladies of the ton, the Earl of Matlock approached Elizabeth as she stood near the railing.

"You surprised me quite a lot, young lady," he said in a stern voice, as Elizabeth looked up at him and thought that someday George would look just like his uncle.

"But apparently not enough, my Lord," she said meaningfully, and a half smile graced his lips, making his severe countenance look kinder.

"You remind me of someone, Miss Bennet," he said gravely, as he looked at the stage behind her, his expression becoming sad.

"Is she happy?" Elizabeth asked without knowing why. Perhaps there was something in his expression that made her wonder whether the person she reminded him of had given him pain.

"Very," he said dryly, "that is why I think that you will be happy too. You are one of those people who can make the best of a dire situation."

"So you agree that my situation is not ideal, My Lord?" she asked, looking at him in surprise.

"Nobody's situation is ideal, Miss Bennet," he again looked stern, "in youth it might seem that way, but it never is. If you look closely around you, you will see what I mean."

And she did, her parents' example striking her most forcibly. The Earl was right; most marriages were unequal, if not in wealth or social standing, than in affection.

"Who was she?" She tried to change the subject. She had had enough moroseness to last her a lifetime; now she was only determined to be happy.

"Darcy's Aunt," he said simply, still staring far away.

"Your sister?" she asked in surprise.

"Catherine?" he looked apoplectic for a moment and then his face split into a wide boyish grin, "Heavens, no." He looked at her and that far off look returned again, "I meant Mrs. Collier, Darcy's paternal Aunt."

"Oh," she said thoughtfully as her eyes drifted to the lone figure standing in the corner, with hunched shoulders and dull eyes. _'Papa,' _her heart cried. He could end both his and her own torture by simply believing her, by trusting her narration of the events, by not being so stubborn. Mr. Bennet averted his eyes from her and she excused herself from the Earl and went to stand by Jane and Charlotte.

Now that she had gotten the awkward conversation with George out of the way, she felt much relaxed and the sleeplessness that she had been suffering from for many days seemed to be catching up with her. Elizabeth smiled at Col. Fitzwilliam's blatant flirting with Charlotte, Miss de Bourgh's eye roll, and Charlotte's slightly flushed countenance, while she tried to stifle a yawn that would have been completely improper.

"Miss Elizabeth," Mr. Darcy's deep voice brought her out of her reverie and she quickly turned around, "this is a very old friend of mine, who expressed a specific wish to be introduced to you. May I present Lord Peregrine Barrington, the sixth Earl of Henley."

Elizabeth looked at the tall but extremely thin young man, who was staring rather fixedly at her after bowing.

"And this is Miss Elizabeth Bennet," he gestured towards her then, "my b…"

"I know who she is, Darcy," Lord Barrington cut his sentence short, and Elizabeth observed that he had a pleasant voice, "I do read the newspaper and I also happen to have a sister who lately made her acquaintance."

"Of course," Elizabeth remembered the beautiful woman that she had encountered at Hyde Park a few days ago, while walking with Georgiana, "Lady Felicity."

"You might not know this Miss Bennet," he stepped closer and saw Mr. Darcy roll his eyes, "but I have seen you a couple of times before with Miss Darcy, and have been enchanted since."

Elizabeth tipped her head to a side and eyed him contemplatively.

"Why so grave, Miss Bennet?" he asked in his gentle voice, bending towards her a little.

"I was merely wondering, my Lord," she said impertinently as her eyes clashed with Mr. Darcy for a moment and witnessed the silent encouragement that he was giving her to butcher the attempt, of the young Lord, at flirtation, "why does every lady from the ton that I come across snub me, and every gentleman flirt? It is increasingly perplexing: does polite society accept me, or not?"

"Polite society be damned, Miss Bennet," before she knew what was happening, her hand was in Lord Barrington's, "I think the question should be whether you accept polite society or not?"

Elizabeth's melodious laughter tinkered through their theater box, while she softly extricated her hand from his grip as he stood there and conversed easily with her and Mr. Darcy till the curtains were drawn again. Charlotte asked her for a handkerchief, and Elizabeth quickly made her way towards the back of the room after giving it to her. The box was in semi-darkness again and Elizabeth sat down on the chair that she had vacated previously, placing her hand on its arm, which to her astonishment turned out to be George's hand.

The shame, the horror of the moment was nothing when compared to her mortification as she jumped up and found that the hand was not George's, it was Mr. Darcy's.

_'Oh Lord,' _she thought miserably as she fell into the chair next to him and covered her face in embarrassment, _'why do I have to keep falling into these situations with him?'_

* * *

"George took my seat," Darcy explained lamely to Miss Elizabeth, whose obvious embarrassment at griping his hand tightly, though only for a moment, made him feel a bit of the same.

"I see that now," she whispered as she clasped her hands tightly in her lap.

The trip to the theatre had been uneventful for Darcy until he had encountered his friend, Lord Barrington, Lady Felicity's brother, during the interval and had not only to go and meet their family but also to bring Barrington back to the Darcy box since he insisted that he wanted to meet the new addition to their family.

He had, once again, felt the undercurrent of discomfort that had given him unease in the park a few days ago. Lady Felicity's eyes seemed to be accusing him of something as she merely nodded and then kept her eyes averted from him for the few minutes that he stood there. He was quite confused as to the reason for this sudden hostility. When he raised his eyes, they fell on Miss Elizabeth conversing **easily **with the Earl. Now that was something he had not expected, though she was rather liberally endowed with charm, or so it appeared.

And now he found himself sitting by her at the back of the theatre. Darcy was suddenly extremely conscious of her every move, his eyes remaining fixed to her hands as her slender fingers played with the tassels of her reticule. She had beautiful hands, with long tapering fingers, a white back and a soft pink palm. He wondered if they would be soft to touch or coarse. _'Get a grip man,' _he chided himself,_ 'on yourself, not on her hands.'_

"Do you like the play?" He blurted out before he could stop himself, but the need to get his mind off her hands was rather urgent at that moment.

"Err…," she turned towards him, and as her eyes glittered in the dim candle light, she looked slightly startled at his sudden question, "I…well," she smiled somewhat sheepishly at him, "I am afraid, Mr. Darcy, that I have not been paying attention since the beginning."

"Do you not like 'Macbeth'? He asked in a low voice.

"I thought it was 'King Lear'!" She looked puzzled and as if on cue the lead actor cried,

"To be or not to be…" It was Hamlet.

The next moment, Miss Elizabeth was pressing her hand to her mouth to stop herself from laughing as she clutched her other hand to her stomach. Darcy turned his face away to hide his heightened colour as well as his broad grin.

"I have a pretty good reason to not pay attention, Mr. Darcy," she addressed him again after sufficiently recovering from her giggling fit, "What has **your** mind been occupied with?" Her mischievous smile told him that she was probably hinting towards Lady Felicity, but would not dare approach closer after the way he had reacted the last time she had tried to tease him about her.

"The same as you, Miss Elizabeth," he returned equally, "George's wedding. But I am the one who has to make all the arrangements, as he has to pay regular calls to his intended all morning and sometimes in the evening." He stopped and looked carefully at her. She looked beautiful, of course, but the shadows around her eyes were rather too prominent to be ignored. "Have you not been sleeping well?" he asked, before he could stop himself, and saw her look slightly discomfited.

"No," she admitted staring at his cravat, "London does not agree with me, perhaps."

"George would never stop you from visiting your family, Miss Elizabeth," he understood the reason for her disturbance of mind, "if that is what is keeping you awake at night."

"Of course, **he **would not, but…," she nodded and then her eyes flitted over to where Mr. Bennet was sitting. Darcy suddenly felt sorry for her.

He remembered the way that Mr. Bennet had glanced at him as they shared a look in the Gardiner's morning parlour, while they waited for the ladies to come. It was a look loaded with pain and helplessness; he had seemed to have aged at least ten years in less than four weeks. But Darcy had also seen him gaze at his daughter when she was not looking, and he had seen a father's pain in his eyes, the pain of broken trust.

"Time is the best healer, Miss Elizabeth," he offered gently, as a vague attempt to console her, "give your father a bit of time, and I am sure that he will come around."

"You think he will?" She looked up at him with large hopeful eyes and he felt that even if he did not, he would not have had the heart to tell her so.

"I know he will," he said with as much surety as he could muster, as she smiled her pearly smile, contentedly.

"I am grateful for your words, Mr. Darcy," she settled back into her chair, "you say everything with so much authority that one cannot help but trust you."

Darcy gulped. Her words made him oddly self-conscious. He was staring ahead without registering what was happening in the front, when he felt a soft weight against his shoulder, jerking him out of his thoughts. He looked towards the weight and stiffened as he stared at Miss Elizabeth's head. _'Oh God,' _he breathed deeply and cried inside, _'stop testing me.'_

He tried to concentrate on the play, but it was impossible when a beautiful young woman was breathing on his shoulder. His every sense was attuned to her, and all he wanted to do was run away and forget about her and how she had started to make him feel. She moved slightly and Darcy stopped breathing completely, but then her breathing again became regular and he sighed in relief. A calm fell on Darcy as he relaxed into the chair as well, realizing that he would much rather have her head on his shoulder than run away; indeed, running away was not even an option since it was raining outside, and he hated to run in the rain.

* * *

George punched the sofa in Baron Nathaniel Farnsworth's study after the horrendous dinner at Darcy House, while the Baron himself sipped the sparkling liquid in his glass calmly.

"The woman is trying to drive me to Bedlam," he shouted at last, certain that his voice or words would not get out of this house, just as it would not in his own, "what could she bloody mean by this?"

"Exactly what she said," Farnsworth remained unperturbed.

"Do not play riddles with me, Farnsworth," George turned sharply around from his position by the large sofa, "come to the point, and quickly."

"She obviously wants you to call off the engagement, old man," he rotated his glass and watched the amber liquid catch light with interest, "and the whole act was to anger your uncle into doing just that."

"Like hell," George threw the contents of his glass into the fire and watched it roar in a maddening rage, "Elizabeth is **mine, **and no one shall call off the bloody engagement but me."

"And would you?" The Baron looked carefully at his impulsive friend.

"By God, I shall not," he roared like the fire had a minute ago, "marry me she will, whether she likes it or not."

"But would you not like to punish her for deliberately trying to lower your image in front of the Earl?" Farnsworth goaded, as it was something he did best.

"I do not know," his glass crashed on the marble that lay bare of any rug, "but she makes me want to pull my hair by the roots at times."

George swiftly walked to the sofa and fell on it in acute misery. Elizabeth's latest tantrum had affected him deeply, more deeply than he would like to admit, and what hurt the most was that she probably behaved so irrationally because she wanted to end the engagement before the news of it spread far and wide. She had caught him completely off guard with her accusations, but even had he been expecting them, he would not have been able to say anything, since every word she said was true.

George dropped his head on his hands in chagrin. His cousin Richard had tried to take him to task after Elizabeth and her family had left, but George had simply told everyone assembled that she had **lied, **in order to get into the good graces of his family, knowing full well that they would find out the truth of their relationship someday. William, who had not been privy to the whole episode, had not shown much interest in it either, and had excused himself to go and look over the settlement papers that Mr. Gardiner had brought along, as soon as George had begun lying about Elizabeth's reasons for behaving thus.

The Earl had just shook his head at him, without saying much, and had left with his wife and son. Anne and Georgiana had already repaired to their rooms. It was his loyal friend, Farnsworth, who had taken over in his moment of need, as usual. And so after only half an hour of Elizabeth's departure, he found himself at the Baron's house, mad with rage.

"I believe that she does not deserve your love," the Baron refilled his glass as he sat strategically near the decanter, "frankly, I was quite surprised to find her so uncouth."

George winced at his choice of words but could not deny the truth of it. Elizabeth really had crossed a line, and this time he was not in a mood to forgive. Ever since she had come to London, she had been trying to provoke him through her words or lack of them. How could she not see the advantages of the match? Was she blind to what marriage into the Darcy family meant for her, or was her ego really so big that she could not get past the small slight in the library?

"This world is full of women with foul tempers; if that is what you like," Farnsworth winked, "why bother **marrying** her?"

"Not marry her?" George jumped, "what in the bloody hell do you mean?"

"Do not tell me that you are not going to get even with her for what she did to you," the Baron egged him on, "who knows, the Earl might have withheld Krenmoral from you; it is, after all, left to you on the condition of matrimony."

"Yes," George nodded, "but he did not."

"There is still time," he replied, "he might yet tell you to end the engagement, withhold the living, and turn you into a royal beggar."

"Humbug," George scoffed.

"You cannot marry her, George," Farnsworth's voice became authoritative, "she would ruin you."

"Have you gone barmy?" he looked disbelievingly at the Baron, "Think of the scandal. I could never do this to my sister."

"And your brother?" Farnsworth asked carefully.

"Oh, William can go hang himself for all I care," George said with indifference, "you know how he tortures me with lectures on responsibility and proper behaviour. It is because of him that I ended up sleeping with Lady Margaret Rednill, and then had to go to Hertfordshire, where I first saw Elizabeth. My life has been agony ever since."

"You were always eager to have your grievances out with your brother, were you not?"

"Where are you going with this Farnsworth?" George narrowed his eyes at his friend.

"I have a plan through which you would be able to avenge yourself: both on your lovely betrothed, and your high and mighty brother," Farnsworth laughed devilishly and George looked at him in confusion, "and there shall be no scandal to harm Miss Darcy either."

"Surely, you jest," George mocked.

"You know I never joke when it comes to settling scores," Farnsworth snarled rather frighteningly, "old and new."

George blinked at his friend, knowing full well that no good could ever come out of conspiring against his own blood and the woman he loved, but was too angry to think anything through.

"I am listening," he got up and walked towards Farnsworth, "what is the plan?"

"I shall tell you and you will do as I say," the soft-spoken Baron suddenly turned into the authoritative figure that George looked up to almost against his will, "and no matter what she does, George," he warned, "you will not be tempted."

And so the two friends brought their heads together and one of them spoke while the other listened, his heart dipping and rising as the plan unfolded. George sat back after the Baron refilled their glasses. The beauty of the plan was that he would not only get his chance to get even with Darcy and Elizabeth, but also that it could very easily be carried out. And George was determined to carry it out.

For the next few days he remained focused on it, as he deliberately misled the whole of their acquaintance through the wedding announcement and invitation letters. He felt satisfied every time Farnsworth told him how well he was doing and what marvelous fun they were going to have once everything would culminate into their ultimate goal. But such schemes only work as long as one's heart is in it, and George's heart belonged to Elizabeth, irrevocably, unwaveringly.

Slowly but surely, his resolve started to crumble, until the day his family went to the theatre with Elizabeth's. Her near-apology completely knocked him over, and that was when he began to seriously contemplate the magnitude of what he was about to do. _''The only problem,'_ he thought morbidly as he turned around in his seat by Miss Bennet and watched his friend flirt with Miss Lydia, _'is that Farnsworth is never going to let me_ _back out of this madness now.'_

And then his eyes traveled further towards the back of the room and his blood boiled at the sight of Elizabeth's head resting against his brother's shoulder as she slumbered while Darcy sat with his hands clasped in front of his mouth, his index fingers joined together and rubbing at the bridge of his nose, perfectly at ease. _'No!' _someone yelled inside him. He could not let this happen. He had to turn things around for good, Farnsworth be damned.

* * *

**A/N: **I hope that by now everyone has figured out what is coming up in the next chapter, the name is self-evident, so there's no reason to bite your nails anymore. I'm saying this cuz the next chapter might be a little late in coming. I hope everyone understands and bears with me on this.

There is one thing that I would like to say, every time someone tries to convince Elizabeth to try and be happy about her circumstances or hopes that it would be so, some people don't like it. But you have to understand that if everyone starts to highlight the low points of her life, she would be even more miserable than she already is, so being optimistic about the whole situation is the defense mechanism through which her well wishers are surviving themselves and helping her to do so too.

Thank you all a million for your interest in this story and your wonderful comments, and I hope to put my posting schedule back on track soon.

* * *

**Next Chapter: A Different Groom**


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter 15: A Different Groom**

Elizabeth parted the curtains and stared out the window at the dark night, the sky covered with clouds, not allowing a single star to peep through. She was alone in the small room that Mrs. Gardiner had allocated to her for the night. After everyone had returned from dinner at Darcy House, she had forbidden anyone from entering Elizabeth's room, as she wanted her to get a good night's sleep before her wedding day.

And so Elizabeth stood by the window, staring outside, alone and far from sleep.

She had struggled with herself and the constant stream of engagements with the Darcys, as they met daily and sometimes even more than once a day. It had been tiring, so tiring that she had fallen asleep on Mr. Darcy's shoulder on the night they went to the theatre. It had been mortifying then, but now, even the memory of the moment Mr. Darcy had woken her up failed to arouse any emotion other than a distant embarrassment in her.

If only her father would come and tell her that everything would be fine, that he trusted her, that George would change, that she would be happy. There were so many fears she was labouring under, and no one to set her free of them. Charlotte had been a pillar of support, no doubt, as had Jane in her serenity, exuding a certain positive energy, but that had not been enough. She needed her parents' support now more than ever, but her father was too busy being angry at her and her mother…

The door flew open and in came Mrs. Bennet in her night gown, with a cup of tea in her hand. '_This can't be good_,' she thought apprehensively, '_my mother, in my room, at this time of night. She probably wants to have __**the talk**__ with me_.'

"Mama," she said in a dull voice, "what are you doing here?"

"Oh, do not be ridiculous Lizzy," she chided her as she advanced into the room, "what kind of a mother would I be if I did not talk to you about the ni…life that is to come?"

"Mama, I assure you it is…,"

"Come, dearest," her mother's eyes softened suddenly as she took her hand in her own soft, plump one, "you must drink this tea, and I must say to you what I have come here to say."

Elizabeth knew that there would be no deterring her mother from the course that she had, once embarked upon, and slowly followed her to the bed. Mrs. Bennet took down the covers and patted the bed for Elizabeth to sit upon it. She obediently climbed up, dreading what her mother was going to say, yet knowing it to be necessary. She settled in the bed while Mrs. Bennet softly wrapped the covers around her and handed her the chamomile tea.

"Lizzy, I know," Mrs. Bennet uttered gently as Elizabeth took her first sip of the tea.

"I do not understand," she looked questioningly at her mother, who returned her gaze with an expression somewhat unlike her.

"I know that you were telling the truth on the day of the Netherfield Ball," Mrs. Bennet said in a low voice, quite different from her usual high pitch, "I know what Mr. George did, and I know that you are suffering."

Elizabeth stared at her mother, dumbfounded. Her mother, a woman most insensitive to what went on in any other person's head, a miraculously obtuse person who never gave anything a single thought if it did not concern her, and who had not bestowed a kind word on Elizabeth since her fourteenth birthday, was sitting in front of her and telling her that she understood her pain.

"I…Mama…I," Elizabeth placed the cup back on her side table, "why did you not say anything sooner?" She looked at her mother with large pained eyes and Mrs. Bennet got up from the bed and started walking about the room in agitation. Yes, this was her mother alright.

"After your father refused to listen to me, I thought it better not to encourage your refusal of Mr. George," she uttered hastily, "I tried to talk to your father on both the night of the ball, and the next morning, but his mind was made up. You were to marry the man who tried to compromise you."

"But you behaved as if you were happy about it!" Elizabeth gasped, unable to understand this new and heretofore unseen side of her mother's personality.

"I was," she said firmly, stopping and walking back to the bed and sitting down upon it, "I _am_ happy that you are marrying into a most prestigious family; think of the carriages, the pin money, all of the comforts that you shall have," Mrs. Bennet cried, "and because of you, my dear Lizzy, your sister Lydia is already on the verge of making quite an advantageous match."

"Mama, I do not comprehend you at all," Elizabeth cried as she looked accusingly at her mother, "you knew the truth, and yet you failed to do anything. You say you know of my suffering, and yet you relish this connection with the Darcys as well. Why tell me of your awareness of my misfortune if you do not consider it as such?"

"Because I do not want you to think of me as a heartless mother, ready to throw you into a loveless marriage only to forward her own means," Mrs. Bennet cried as well, the resemblance between the passionate mother and daughter rather obvious just then, "I would not have rejoiced in this match if your father had not given it his immovable consent, but from the moment it was done, I had no option left but to be happy about the advantages it would bring to you and perhaps our family as well."

Elizabeth kept her face averted, her thoughts too jumbled up to be comprehended.

"I know you well, Lizzy," Mrs. Bennet said, placing her hand on her daughter's, and as she looked at her mother, Elizabeth knew that she probably did, "you would rather reject a man for being too forward than allow him liberties, even if you loved him, and you do not love Mr. George."

Elizabeth's eyes slowly started to water. At last there was someone who had defined her notion of honour to perfection, and of all the people in the world, it was her loud and obnoxious mother. Elizabeth moved towards Mrs. Bennet and within a moment she was in her arms, crying heavily.

"There, there child," Mrs. Bennet rubbed her back, "it is not the end of the world. He loves you; I have seen it in his eyes. You might yet get a chance at happiness." Elizabeth kept on sobbing, all the tears that she had been holding back pouring out like the rain that had been unstoppable for many days now. "It is not necessary to be in love before marriage," Mrs. Bennet lightly stroked her hair as her sobbing slowed down, "I was, but much good it did me," there was a bitter note to her voice, "and after a few years of marriage, I learned that it is practicality that matters, not love. Love is a fantasy that very few people get to live." Her voice suddenly hardened as she pulled Elizabeth away from her and looked at her rather severely, "You and I, dear daughter, are not one of them." Elizabeth recoiled at the note of finality in the tone of her mother.

"And that is why we have to be stronger, assertive, and at times, barefaced," Mrs. Bennet told her gravely, "in order to get what we want for the ones who are dearest to us." Mrs. Bennet abruptly stood up as she looked down at Elizabeth's tearstained face, "You are the strongest of all my daughters, well perhaps not as strong as Lydia, but you will do this Lizzy, and you will do it well."

"Mama, he…"

**"He **is just a man, Lizzy," she shrieked now, making Elizabeth wince lightly as she realized that her mother had once again turned into….well…Mrs. Bennet, "and men want just one thing from a woman." Elizabeth blinked, _'Is Mama at last going to have __**the talk **__with me?'_ "But do not look so scared, for I am not going to enlighten you on that tonight, because I know that you would not let poor Mr. George have his marital rights just now, and I think it a waste of time to scare you beforehand." Elizabeth sighed in relief, but it was short lived, "write to me whenever you are ready, or whenever he becomes restless. But really, Lizzy," Mrs. Bennet tipped her head to the side and looked at her irritably, "do not keep him waiting too long. You do not want him running away to a mistress even before you have consummated the marriage, or produced an heir."

"Mama," Elizabeth cried in mortification, and Mrs. Bennet turned towards the door, twittering on her way out.

"Not that it shall matter," she wailed, "all the Darcy fortune would, obviously, go to Mr. Darcy's son. Oh, that you had the sense to get compromised by Mr. Darcy! Ah well, one cannot comp…," and with that the door shut behind her, leaving a bedazzled and beleaguered Elizabeth behind.

* * *

Elizabeth woke up on the morning of her wedding to someone pressing cold cotton swabs on her eyes.

"Do not even think of removing them, Lizzy," her mother threatened and she stilled quickly, "all that pointless crying last night has made your eyes swell up. Lay still and I shall remove these in a few minutes."

Elizabeth heard the door close after a moment and sighed. Her interlude with Mrs. Bennet still seemed like an impossible dream and yet it did happen. That Mama would understand and believe her instead of Papa was astounding and somewhat sad as well, for she had never tried to understand her mother's behaviour and was always quick to censure it. On the other hand, she had always laughed whenever her father took a jibe at her mother. Elizabeth suddenly felt as though she was not a good judge of character, for whom did she understand if she could not even comprehend the reasons behind her own parents' attitudes?

Before long, her mother came again with a maid, and Elizabeth was taken to her Aunt's room where she bathed and had breakfast before Jane and Charlotte joined her along with Martha to help her prepare for her wedding. Her wedding. She looked out the window facing the front of the house. It was a bright, sunny morning; the never ending showers of rain had finally given up and had made way for a glorious day. Elizabeth irritably turned away from the view.

"Stop making that face, Lizzy," Charlotte chided as she took her by the arm and led her towards the screen. She looked very nice indeed in a beige gown, with coral trimmings. "You should change now; we would not want to be late for the ceremony. Mr. Darcy seems quite fastidious where punctuality is concerned."

"When does he not seem fastidious?" Elizabeth mocked, and then grabbing the gown, quickly stepped behind the screen to change into it.

"Lizzy," Jane admonished her softly, "he has been nothing but charming to us during our visit here."

"Charming?" Elizabeth pulled the gown over her already corseted form; it fit perfectly, "kind perhaps, even courteous, but I would never call him charming." Elizabeth came out from behind the screen arguing about her future brother-in-law.

"Oh my, Lizzy," Jane gasped, "that is a beautiful gown."

Elizabeth stepped in front of the mirror to take a look at herself. The gown was indeed beautiful and it had cost a fortune as well. It was an icy white dress with delicate embroidery, puffed sleeves and an empire waist that showed her tall and graceful figure to perfection.

"I am sure your groom will not be able to look anywhere else," Charlotte teased her, but there was admiration in her eyes as she bent down to adjust Elizabeth's train.

"Then my groom shall be wasting his time on me," Elizabeth started to loosen her braid but Jane quickly took over, "for I am determined not to look at him till it is absolutely necessary."

"You mean when he bends down to kiss you and looks at you with his soulful blue eyes," Charlotte giggled, and Elizabeth saw Jane's smile in the mirror. She involuntarily shuddered at the thought of being kissed by George, her nails digging into her palms. _'I shall not be weak today,' _she repeated again and again in her mind, _'I shall be strong, just like Mama told me to.'_

"Charlotte," Jane turned her smiling countenance towards their friend, "how could you say such things?"

"How could you think them?" Charlotte seemed to be in an exceptionally pleasant mood that morning and Elizabeth felt herself relaxing a little as well. Perhaps Charlotte and Jane were intentionally saying things that would keep her mind off the harsher reality that she was to face in a few hours, "for I know you think of Mr. Bingley's kisses all the time."

"Charlotte," Jane cried indignantly as Elizabeth chuckled, "I do no such thing. I do not even think about him"

"Were you not lamenting just the other day that he will not be coming to the wedding?" Charlotte asked pointedly as she preened at herself in the mirror and winked at Elizabeth through it.

"Well…I…it was a harmless statement," Jane said in exasperation, "I did not know that you would be using it against me. Besides, he is Mr. Darcy's friend, not Mr. George's, so he was not invited either."

"I wanted to thank both of you," Elizabeth quickly got off the stool and turned towards them, "your support has been the only thing that has pulled me through the last few days."

"Lizzy, do not start on the unfairness of the world again," Charlotte warned, as she stepped closer and placed a hand on Elizabeth's arm, "this is your wedding day and you must learn to make the most of it. Being so morose does not suit the Elizabeth we all know and love."

"I am trying," Elizabeth hung her head. It was so difficult to be happy when she saw no reason to be so.

"Try harder, darling," Charlotte said gently, "your attitude is only going to make it more difficult for you. All of us sympathize with your situation, but such is life. You cannot always have what you want; therefore you must utilize whatever you get. If you can only, somehow, bar the fact of your engagement came to be, your situation is not that bad."

"Not that bad?" Elizabeth cried in protest, "and how am I supposed to **bar **the fact that he compromised me, when it is all but branded onto my soul?"

"Lizzy, he shall prove to be a good husband," Jane chimed in softly, "I am sure of it."

"Oh, Jane," Elizabeth looked enviously at her older sister, who looked breathtaking in a soft blue gown, "you have no idea how much I need your optimism right now. I wish it was something that could be borrowed."

"It cannot be borrowed Lizzy," Charlotte turned her towards herself, "but you can produce some of it inside you, **if **you want to be happy. The question is, do you?"

"Is there anyone in this world who does not want to be happy?" Elizabeth asked sardonically, "I do too, just not with the man I am to marry."

"This attitude is never going to let you be at peace," Charlotte said firmly, "discard it Lizzy, for us, if not for yourself."

Elizabeth breathed deeply and sat down on the stool in front of the vanity. It was eight o'clock in the morning, she had a good night's sleep and a hearty breakfast, yet she felt tired. Perhaps she was tired of struggling against George, perhaps it was time to let go of her grievances against him and try to be happy, like Charlotte and everyone else had advised her to do. She looked up and found both of them staring at her expectantly. Elizabeth smiled and nodded and their worried faces cleared. _'Well,' _she thought firmly, _'at least I can pretend to be happy; if nothing else, it would put the minds of the people I love at ease.'_

Someone knocked on the door.

"It must be Martha," Jane told them, "we shall leave you now Lizzy. Charlotte and I should help Kitty and Lydia prepare as well."

"Of course," Elizabeth nodded and smiled for their satisfaction, as she took her place in front of the dresser once again.

Martha entered as Jane and Charlotte left. She quickly crossed the room to her and started brushing out the tangles in her hair, while Elizabeth absently stared at her reflection in the mirror. Was she really being too melodramatic? She tapped her fingers on the dresser as Martha ran the hairbrush through her hair. Elizabeth sometimes complained that her hair did not curl enough, but the truth was that she was really proud of her long tresses, straight on top and gloriously wavy as they reached her hip in a beautiful light chestnut shade that even the fair-haired Jane envied.

"Oh, Miss Elizabeth," Martha suddenly jumped, "I forgot to bring the beads and ribbons from Mrs. Bennet's room."

"That is all right Martha," Elizabeth said gently to the frightened looking, absentminded maid, "you can fetch them now."

She watched Martha scamper away and then stood up and walked towards the window. It truly was a beautiful morning. She ran a hand through her freshly brushed hair and slid it all on one shoulder, slowly moving her fingers through it. Perhaps Charlotte was right and she was being overemotional. After all, it had been four weeks since she got engaged, and George had proven to be a most attentive suitor so far, attuned to her every need, careful of not offending her and always putting her comfort first.

There were still things about him that deeply disturbed her though. George was neither sensitive nor sensible; there was a certain impulsiveness in his manner and an aptitude to tire of things rather too easily. But if, as Charlotte had said, she barred his one real offence towards her, he was perhaps not as incurable a rascal as she supposed. After all, he did claim to be deeply attached to her. She stared outside as a familiar looking carriage came to a halt in front of the Gardiner's residence. Maybe if she relented somewhat, a space could be made for him in her heart; if only she opened up a bit, perhaps there was still a chance at happiness for her and Mr. Darcy…_'Mr. Darcy?' _Her eyes expanded slightly as she watched him jump off the carriage in a hurry and almost run towards the house, _'What on Earth is he doing here?' _Elizabeth moved closer to the window, but he had disappeared from her vision.

She rubbed her arms lightly. The rains had left the weather slightly cooler than was usual at this time of the year and her thin baize* wedding gown had a rather low cut neck, coupled with sleeves that only just covered her shoulders. _'Miss de Bourgh's doing,' _Elizabeth shook her head at the memory of how she and Georgiana had pestered her at Madame Dupont's to settle for this design, to the point that she had wished for her mother's presence. Elizabeth was wondering what was taking Martha so long when the door of the room was thrown open.

"Martha, it's about ti…,"

"Mr. Gardiner, it's imperati…."

"Mr. Darcy!" Elizabeth shrieked at the sight of Mr. Darcy standing quite still in the doorway, impeccably dressed and turned out.

"Miss Elizabeth," he whispered, staring at her as if dumbfounded.

Elizabeth did not know what to think of his sudden and unanticipated appearance at the door of the room in which she was getting ready for her wedding to his brother. She looked questioningly at him, but he seemed fixed in time as his eyes remained glued to her face.

"I…err…did not expect to see you for a couple of hours yet, sir," she stepped away from the window as she smoothed her hands over her gown a little self-consciously. _'For God's sake, blink, Mr. Darcy,' _she pleaded with him inwardly, for his eyes were making her terribly nervous.

"Neither did I," he said mechanically and then suddenly snapped out of whatever it was that he was thinking, and blinked, to Elizabeth's immense relief, "I mean…that I did not expect to see you either."

"Oh," was all that she could manage to say; her thoughts however were: _'Then what are you doing here?'_

"The maid," he turned around and looked for the offending girl, which Elizabeth rightly judged to be Martha, "I do not know where she went, but she led me here when I asked her to take me to Mr. Gardiner's room."

It had been a sad day for Elizabeth, and she did not feel like smiling let alone laughing, but Mr. Darcy's befuddled countenance was just too much for her composure. She cleared her throat and touched her lips with the back of her hand in an attempt to hide her smile and strangle her chuckle.

"In her defense, this is my Uncle's room," she managed to say at last, "but he is in his study at the moment." Martha obviously did not have the courage to deny Mr. Darcy anything he asked for, and therefore she must have led him directly to Mr. Gardiner's room, as he had asked her to.

"Oh," it was Mr. Darcy's turn to utter the vague term.

"I can take you to my Uncle's study, for that is where he must be," Elizabeth offered as she advanced further into the room.

"I…uh…no please, Miss Elizabeth," Mr. Darcy looked horrified, perhaps at the thought of a bride-to-be sauntering about the house, guiding guests, "I shall manage on my own."

"It is not a problem," she smiled at him and stepped closer still, "it shall distract me as well."

Mr. Darcy made way for her to step ahead of him and Elizabeth moved into the gallery and proceeded towards the study while he quietly followed her. She quickly climbed down the steps, flipping her hair behind her shoulder.

"Pray, what brings you here so early in the day Mr. Darcy," she asked as they reached the end of the staircase and turned towards the study, "I hope your brother has not run away?" She looked at him mischievously as she stopped at the study door and motioned for him to enter.

Elizabeth watched Mr. Darcy's face pale with concern, and spoke up quickly before he fell to the floor in an apoplectic fit. "Mr. Darcy," she cried out in alarm, "please forgive me, I was only in jest."

"Miss Elizabeth," he began in an agitated voice, his grey eyes trying to tell her something, as he raised his hand as if to catch one of hers in it, "perhaps you…,"

"Darcy?" The study door was thrown open by her uncle who seemed very surprised at seeing his soon to be nephew's older brother there, "what are **you **doing here?"

Elizabeth watched his hand in awe as it halted its slow progress and balled into a fist.

"I shall see you at church then," he said uncomfortably, averting his eyes, his hand back at his side.

"Yes," she said simply, and turned around to go back as the study door clicked shut behind her, hoping that Martha would have returned with her hair accessories and wondering what had brought Mr. Darcy to her uncle's house so early in the day when they were to meet for the wedding in two hours. As she turned the corner towards the stairs, she came face to face with her father.

"Papa," Elizabeth croaked. Mr. Bennet stilled at the last stair. She took a deep breath; perhaps Jane was right: she should put her pride aside and try to talk to him one last time, "How long will you stay angry at me, Papa?" she asked miserably. His wrinkled face remained unchanged.

"I am not angry, Elizabeth," he stepped down and crossed her to move towards the study.

"Then what is all this?" She said in a strangled voice, "How long do you plan to torture me with your mistrust?" She stared at his grey clad back.

"Do not ask me that," he said dully, without turning around, and entering the study, left a stunned Elizabeth behind.

She did not know how she made her way back to her aunt's room, had no idea when Martha started turning her hair into the latest style for brides, could not remember when her friend, mother, aunt and sisters entered the room, did not understand what they said, nodded blankly as they told her that it was time to leave for the church, and allowed herself to be guided to the carriage. The only thing she remembered was her father's back turned towards her as he broke all ties with her in one swift move, with one quick sentence.

The numbness kept increasing as she stepped down from the carriage and entered the almost empty church on the arm of her father, a father who perhaps no longer considered her his daughter, to bequeath herself upon the man who was the reason for this estrangement. She kept her eyes lowered as her mother fidgeted with her grey silk pelisse and her sister handed her a bouquet. She could not even smell the flowers: her senses had all fled her.

"Lizzy," her aunt suddenly stepped forward before they crossed the threshold, "are you all right, my darling? Do you need something to drink, perhaps? You look wane."

At some other time, her aunt's concern might have brought tears into her eyes, but they failed to produce any appropriate emotion in her now.

"It's a good thing Mama got me a veil, then," she responded emotionlessly. She reached out and brought her veil forward without dislodging her silk trimmed hat, allowing it to drop in front of her face, making her pallor less prominent.

She felt Mr. Bennet's elbow tighten as they stepped through the door, but it was too late for her to feel sympathetic towards her father, who had not given her the same courtesy. She walked on with a raised head and lowered eyes, determined not to look towards the groom, fearing that she might be tempted to dart away faster than Lord Waversham's horse if she did. Her father stopped near the altar and she quickly removed her hand from his arm. They were now officially divided. She was to become someone else's property in a few minutes, after a few words: words that meant nothing to her.

The priest began the ceremony as she stared at her hands, not registering what was being said or what she felt. Everything seemed strange, as if she was watching someone else's wedding from afar. The vicar kept on giving them reasons why they should not be married but neither Elizabeth nor her groom batted an eyelash as they stood through the ceremony, tempted yet in control.

Elizabeth realized that she had not been listening when George's elbow nudged her briefly. She came out of her trance and raised her eyes to find the vicar staring questioningly and disapprovingly at her.

"I will," she uttered quickly and went back into the cocoon of her tortuous thoughts from whence she did not come out, even when George took her hand and started repeating what the vicar said.

They dropped hands only to join them again. It was Elizabeth's turn now to repeat after the vicar.

"**I, **_Elizabeth Susan Bennet,_take thee," there was a loud clang at the back of the church (probably the Gardiner children up to some mischief), and the vicar's voice drowned in it for a moment, but Elizabeth knew the hated name well. So as the commotion at the back of the church continued, Elizabeth uttered it quickly, wanting to get it over with, "Fitzwilliam George…" she faltered for a second, not recalling the third name properly.

"Marcus," her groom whispered.

"Marcus Darcy," she said evenly and continued on with the vows, "to be my wedded husband, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love, cherish, and to obey, till death us do part, according to God's holy ordinance; and thereto I give thee my troth."

Elizabeth quickly brought her hand out of George's grip as a ring was produced and the usual customs followed.

"With this ring I thee wed," George said in a voice that to Elizabeth's hearing, seemed different yet familiar, "with my body I thee worship," she shuddered unconsciously, "and with all my worldly goods I thee endow: In the Name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. Amen."

The ring was pushed down her fourth finger as the vicar told them to kneel down in prayer. She had nothing to pray for and was not interested in what the old vicar said. She felt cold in the high roofed, draughty church, realizing well that the chill came from within. She hardly remembered being pronounced man and wife: it was not worth remembering, it was something that she had wanted to forget even before it had happened.

As the vicar and the few people present were done with the psalms, she was guided to a register where she signed her maiden name for the last time before the Gardiner children jumped upon her with congratulations and demands for gifts. She tried, but could not smile, it was impossible to. Her parents and Lord and Lady Matlock came next, followed by her aunt and uncle, then all her sisters, and Georgiana and her cousins.

Elizabeth received everyone's well wishes without dwelling too much on why they all looked so gloomy, except her mother, who positively beamed. She observed the absence of Mr. Darcy in passing, but could not think about it yet. In fact, she could not think about anything yet and successfully kept her mind blank, as she stared outside the carriage window, as she got off it with the help of her new husband, as she entered the grand Darcy House, and as she was led towards a room full of books and a large desk, loaded with papers.

She took a deep breath and braced herself to face George now. She must stop struggling against the new bond that she had just formed, no matter how unwillingly. Elizabeth threw back her veil and turned around to see him shutting the door.

"Mr. Darcy," she started, _'now why does he appear every time I least expect him to?'_

"Mrs. Darcy," he said solemnly, bowing a little. Elizabeth gulped, her new title seemed strange to her ears, "you seem startled."

"Oh, it is nothing," she tried to calm herself, relieved that for the moment she was not face to face with George, "I thought you were my husband."

"You were right," he took a step towards her, his countenance hard, **"I am your husband."**

The sky did not fall and the Earth did not shatter, and yet she did feel as though something had exploded inside her, probably her mind. Now, Elizabeth was not one to swear, but in that moment, she was sorely tempted to say _**'What the bloody hell do you mean?'**_

* * *

Darcy woke up earlier than was usual for him, the unrest of the previous night not letting him sleep properly, even though he had stayed up most of the night waiting for George to come home. He stretched lazily, threw off the covers, and got up. Darcy pulled the bell as he vaguely wondered if George had gotten horribly drunk last night, for it would make it quite difficult for him to go to the church in the sunlight, as the weather had at last cleared.

Darcy went through his daily routine of taking a bath, getting a shave, and dressing, except that for today, George had insisted that he get brand new breeches and tail coat, in blue. He shook his head at his brother's childish request, but got into the new clothes all the same.

"What time did Mr. George get back last night, Johnson?" Darcy asked his butler as he finished his breakfast.

"He did not sir," the old but efficient butler told him in his typical monotone. Darcy felt startled as he pushed away the paper.

"What do you mean?" He frowned at Johnson as his heart started to beat in a slow uncomfortable rhythm.

"Exactly what I said, sir," the butler replied respectfully, "he sent you a letter by the hand of Baron Farnsworth's footman." He magically produced a silver platter from behind him and held it in front of a flabbergasted Darcy. He quickly grabbed the letter and nearly ran to his study, where he ripped it open and read it with increasing alarm and decreasing pulse.

_William,_

_Ever since I came of age, you have been constantly undermining my ability to take any kind of responsibility, be it of my estate or my actions. No matter what I do, it can never be good enough for the high and mighty Fitzwilliam Darcy, Master of Pemberley. It was you who told me what a disgrace I was to the family name, you who told me to go to Hertfordshire and you who forced me into an engagement with Miss Elizabeth Bennet. But I have had enough of you trying to run my life, and so I refuse to get married to her, today or any other day._

_But do not think me so heartless as to tarnish the family name and destroy the future prospects of Georgiana; even though my actions seem to belie my words, in truth they do not. You must have noticed, observant as you are, that both the wedding invitations and the announcement in the paper said 'Mr. Darcy' only. What you have failed to notice, cooped up inside the house as you have been, is the fact that the whole of the ton thinks that it is __**you **__who is getting married today, not me. Therefore the solution to save your sister and reputation is simple, dear brother; __**you **__must marry Miss Elizabeth._

_I have taken care of everything, from spreading the rumors, to writing the invitation letters; from the announcement in the paper, to the procurement of the special marriage license, for to quote you future mother-in-law, 'You must and shall be married by a special license.' Do not waste your time wondering how I got your signatures on it, as it was really rather simple, and also boring, so I shall not waste any more time on this topic. The license is lying in the top drawer of the writing desk in the study._

_It would be useless to look for me, for by the time you get this letter, I will be off to some place you need not know nor worry about. Instead, you should start preparing for your wedding and bride-to-be. I am sorry that you do not love her, but you never believed in marrying for love. Indeed, what could be a better reason to marry than to save your family from disrepute?_

_I will leave you to determine what you will say as to the reason why your only brother could not attend your wedding. My suggestion will be to pronounce me ill with some affliction or another. I wish you all the best of luck. I shall contact you again as soon as you and your bride get settled at Pemberley. Oh, and I have left Desiree's ring along with the license; it would be difficult to find another on such short notice._

_Your brother,_

_George Wickham Darcy_

Darcy quickly moved to his desk and found an unfamiliar parchment there, the license. He was flying out the front door even as he folded the letter and placed it inside his breast pocket.

"Send Johnny and Fisher to Farnsworth House," he barked to the stunned butler as he climbed into the carriage, "and be quick about it."

His mind would have been numb with shock, if not for the many such George had already given him over the years. What kind of a letter had his brother written? What imagined injustices was he attributing to him?

"Farnsworth," Darcy muttered under his breath. He had no doubt as to who had been guiding George's actions. He still remembered George's face as he had told him that he loved Miss Elizabeth, the way he looked at her, the way he smiled at her. Real or imagined, George did have the highest regard for his betrothed, till Farnsworth came into the picture. Darcy impatiently peeked outside the window. George would not willingly abandon a woman he claimed to love now, would he? He raked his hand through his hair in agitation; this disaster had to be averted, at all costs.

Darcy jumped out as the carriage came to a halt in front of the Baron's house. Darcy threw open the doors without waiting for the footman to do so.

"Where is your master?" He asked the stoic butler eyeing him warily, this was obviously not the first time anyone had barged into Farnsworth House and demanded to see the wayward Baron.

"In his bedroom, sir," the butler said respectfully.

"Take me there," Darcy said already moving further into the entrance.

"Sir it would not be…,"

"Now," Darcy said coldly when inside he was like a volcano about to burst.

At the butler's nod, a footman appeared and led Darcy upstairs to Farnsworth's room.

There was a woman with him in his bed, but Darcy's wrath was beyond reason now. Without sparing a single thought to the widened eyes of the painted trollop, Darcy grabbed the sleeping Baron by the collar of his night shirt and dragged him out of his bed. There was no time to be wasted on observing proprieties, when everything that he held dear was at stake.

"Where is he?" he asked, as he held the stocky man his brother held so dear.

"W-what…who?" Farnsworth was obviously startled but his eyes were just as alert as ever.

"I do not have time for your games, Farnsworth." Darcy snarled, "Where is my brother?"

"How am I…"

"Just cut the bloody nonsense and tell me," Darcy pushed him until he was pressed against the crimson wall of his elaborately decorated room as the woman in his bed squealed in fear, "tell me or I swear I'll call you out, and both of us know what would happen then."

"H-he lefff-ft," the Baron choked out as Darcy's thumbs slowly increased their pressure on his throat, "earrrly th-thiss mmorrninngg."

"Where?" Darcy asked again as he gave the pathetic man in his grip a jerk.

"He did not tell me," Farnsworth spoke more calmly now, as Darcy's grip relaxed somewhat, "he knew that you would come here and get it out of me. You can search the house if you do not trust me."

"Is he gone to Pexley or Krenmoral?" Darcy released him and took a step back, Pexley was Farnsworth's estate in Essex.

"I have told you, I do not know," he said rubbing his throat, as he looked warily at the looming figure of Darcy.

"What is in it for you, Farnsworth," Darcy asked suddenly, his voice becoming less hostile, "what do you earn by ruining our family?"

"George is my friend," he spat out, "and unlike you, I care about his future. Marriage to that woman would have effectively sealed his fate."

"No," Darcy cried, "his fate was sealed the day he first came into contact with you. **You **are the one who has ruined my brother's life under the pretense of friendship. Your shameless disregard for honour has led him to this end, where he stands to lose even his own family." Darcy turned around and took a few steps towards the door when the Baron spoke up again.

"He does not need his family," Farnsworth taunted from behind him, "he has me."

"And who are you," Darcy whirled around as he looked pityingly at the sorry figure who stood in front of him half clothed, "a coward who has no courage, no integrity, no morals?"

"Much good your courage has done you," the Baron laughed menacingly, his pale eyes devious in their expression, "your integrity is not going to help you, Darcy. In fact, it is the very thing that is going to make you marry the woman your brother has already used and discarded."

Like a bolt of lightning, Darcy was upon him, as he rammed his fist hard into Farnsworth's nose and stepped back as the Baron fell to the ground, amidst shrieks coming from the bed and blood oozing from his broken nose.

"Previously you only lacked a spine, Farnsworth," Darcy's cold voice rasped in the room, "but now you also lack a nose."

* * *

His mind was a jumble as he came out of the Baron's house and saw his men standing outside. Darcy told one of them to stand guard by the Farnsworth House in case George was inside, which he doubted very much. Another he ordered to follow any resident of the Baron's house and report to him their whereabouts. As his carriage drove off, this time to Fitzwilliam House, Darcy suddenly felt weakened. The reality of the whole situation had begun to dawn upon him; if George was not found within the hour, he would have no choice but to marry Miss Elizabeth.

Her image flashed in front of his eyes as she had glided gracefully in his arms at the Netherfield Ball, and he closed his eyes in pain. She was his brother's intended; he could not possibly be expected to marry her. But what of the rumors? George had successfully woven a web of lies and deceit around him so that he could not find a way out no matter how hard he tried. He felt strangled, as his mind slowly began to register the magnitude of George's actions.

He climbed off the carriage in front of his uncle's house, but his manner had lost urgency as he had started to realize that George had not left him with many choices. He was led to the morning parlour where his aunt, uncle and cousin were assembled.

"Darcy!" Richard was the first to jump up, "What brings you here at this time of day? Should you not be preparing for the wedding?"

Darcy wordlessly held the letter out for his aunt to read aloud, so that everyone could hear of his plight and advise him on what to do, as his own mind had lost the ability for now. As Lady Margery read through, for a moment the room fell silent and then there was a sudden commotion. His uncle raged, his aunt trembled, and his cousin cursed as Darcy stood motionlessly by the window, the clock ticking steadily behind him.

"What is your advice, sir?" Darcy asked his uncle in a low, dejected voice, knowing what his answer would be yet hoping that it would not be what he thought.

"Advice is required where there are choices, dear boy," he said in his typical authoritative manner, "**you** do not have a choice." Darcy closed his eyes against the Earl's words. They had stung him terribly. "You are the head of the Darcy family now, and you have to make a decision based on what is good for the family, regardless of its implications on **you."**

Darcy felt like the teenage boy who stood near the coffin of his mother and threw in the first fistful of dirt, since his father was prostrate with grief and had locked himself in his room. It seemed as if he was again going to be the one to bear the brunt of the harsh reality, to be the thrower of the first fistful of dirt. Except this time, the body in the coffin was that of his hopes and desires for the future.

"Why do you hesitate, Darcy?" his uncle asked suddenly. As he felt a hand on his shoulder, he turned around and saw the compassionate gaze of his aunt, not related to him by blood, but always there for him as if she was. He sighed and allowed her to lead him to a sofa as she started to prepare tea for him.

"Do not pressure him, Henry," she told her husband softly, "let him come to terms with this himself."

He thought of the reasons why marrying Miss Elizabeth would be wrong, and his mind felt choked with the overflow of them. She was the woman his brother had compromised, she was impertinent and wild, her social standing was not ideal, her mother was obnoxious, her younger sisters uncouth. His head fell into his hands. She was also charming, intelligent, and beautiful. He had not been able to get her out of his mind ever since he first saw her, and yet she was not what he had thought her to be. How could he marry someone whose character he doubted, whose morals he did not hold in high esteem, who had connived to ensnare his own brother?

"Is your honour engaged elsewhere?" Col. Fitzwilliam's voice brought him out of his dour thoughts. He slowly raised his head to find all the three occupants of the room looking at him.

Honour? It was then that he realized why Lady Felicity had looked so sadly at him, why she had avoided him since that day at the park. She and her family were also some of the many people who believed that it was Darcy that was getting married and not George. He had tried to be cautious, to court her from a distance, to not raise her hopes, but her eyes said otherwise: she had found him out, understood the meaning of his attentions and had, in all probability waited for him to declare himself. What a mess everything seemed, and yet through all the muddling facts that were slowly coming to the fore, one reality stood out and stared him right in the face.

"No," he said firmly. He was not sure of anything anymore, except two things. First, his honour was engaged, not to Lady Felicity, but to his own family, to his sister. And second, he was going to marry Miss Elizabeth.

"Then go to the Gardiners and tell them what has happened," the Earl of Matlock stood to his considerable height followed by his son and nephew as his plump little wife looked on from her seat, "impress upon them the need to go through with the marriage regardless of the circumstances."

"There is one problem, though," Lady Margery spoke up and everyone turned to look at her in question, "Miss Elizabeth does not seem like a woman who would bend to our will." Darcy looked at her, perplexed, he had not considered Miss Elizabeth's reaction to the whole situation, "she might say no."

"She would not," the Earl said with authority, "she is stubborn and proud, to be sure," a certain wistfulness seeped into his voice before it became authoritative once again, "but she does value family."

"We can stand here and debate Miss Elizabeth's qualities all day long," Richard said after clearing his throat, "but the time runs out and Darcy must be away to discuss this with the bride's father."

"Yes," Darcy nodded, dreading Mr. Bennet's reaction, _'What if he says no?' _he thought anxiously, "I must make haste."

"Would you like me to come with you?" Richard's voice halted him in mid-step as he approached the door.

"No," he said without turning around, "I must bear this burden alone.

The ride to Gracechurch Street seemed like an eternity to him. Something inside Darcy told him to take a breath and rethink the whole scenario, but he knew that if he stopped to think, he would not be able to **act.** He wanted to hate George, to find him and to call him out on his actions and force him to marry his betrothed, but these were vain thoughts and he needed to be practical, for Georgiana and the family. As the streets got narrower, Darcy peeked outside and wished that he was a poor coachman from an ordinary background, with no demands made upon him by a society that had no claims on him other than the ones he himself allowed it to have.

**"I would rather be unaccomplished and happy," a melodious voice chirped in his ears, "than be in the useless pursuit of trying to please a society that does not matter to me at all."**

It was Miss Elizabeth's voice and her words; he wished he could be as bold as her and denounce the expectations of society on him. But he was not alone: he had to protect the only relative he was left with, his innocent sister. The carriage stopped in front of the Gardiner's house and Darcy leapt outside and knocked hastily on the door, knowing well that the house would be in a chaos of wedding preparations. A harassed looking maid bid him enter, and after he inquired about Mr. Gardiner, took him upstairs, which he might have thought odd if his mind was not in such turmoil.

She opened the door for Darcy and then scampered off, leaving him to stare at the dazzling sight in front of his eyes. Miss Elizabeth was standing by the window in icy white, looking breathtaking as her fingers slowly combed through her light chestnut hair that looked almost coppery in the sunlight, and that illuminated her form. She turned towards him expressing her surprise at his sudden appearance. Darcy wanted to reply, to say something, to do anything but stare, but like everything else in his life: this also seemed to be out of his control.

He could not remember how he answered her and how he came to be following her down the steps as her beautiful scent lingered in the air that he breathed in. His eyes traveled down to the back of her gown and he could almost see a mole peeping out right below her nape, Darcy gulped, everything that he held dear was on line and here he was noticing her smell and her moles and… she suddenly threw back her hair over her shoulder and they briefly rained on his hands before covering her back completely.** Her hair, **loose and silken and waving down like a waterfall, by God she was an enchanting creature.

"Pray, what brings you here so early in the day, Mr. Darcy," she asked, as they reached the end of the staircase and turned towards the study, "I hope your brother has not run away?" She looked at him mischievously as she stopped at the study door and motioned for him to enter.

Darcy paled; the magic was broken. He was here on a mission, a mission that would connect his life to hers forever, but just as he was about to tell her his horrible news, Mr. Gardiner appeared and she left. Darcy paced around the study as Mr. Gardiner read the letter, trying not to think of what was about to happen, when Mr. Bennet entered and looked at him in surprise. His brother handed the letter to him, and Darcy stopped pacing as Mr. Bennet's face split in pain.

"W-what is the meaning of this?" He asked as he dropped heavily on a chair.

"My brother has run away," he said dryly, not knowing how else to hide his turmoil from the two men, "and we are without a groom for the wedding that is to be in less than two hours."

"But…," Mr. Bennet opened his lips again, but Darcy silenced him by raising his hand.

"There is only one solution to this problem, Mr. Bennet," he said steadily, "for we do not have much time. I shall marry your daughter, if you consent and if she would have me."

Mr. Gardiner and Mr. Bennet stared at him, dumbfounded. Darcy knew that Mr. Bennet would consent and Miss Elizabeth would as well. After all, the very reason both families had agreed to a union between George and Miss Elizabeth was to save their respective reputations, and that much was still on the line. But Mr. Gardiner's next statement came as a big surprise to him.

"Elizabeth shall never agree to this," he said worriedly, and turned towards Mr. Bennet.

"This does not concern only her, Gardiner." Mr. Bennet's voice was shaking slightly, "It concerns the whole family. Therefore, she still has no choice in the matter and informing her now would only anger her further." Darcy was stunned; this was ludicrous.

"What if she refuses to comply at the Church, Bennet?" Mr. Gardiner said in exasperation, "do not speak as though you are unaware of your daughter's stubbornness."

"I am well aware of it," he said tiredly, "but she is my daughter, and she shall not create a scene. Gardiner," he said firmly, "I know it." Mr. Bennet's words seemed to imply that he trusted his daughter, and yet his actions belied his words.

"So you agree?" Darcy asked hesitantly, not sure if not informing Miss Elizabeth was a wise thing to do. But it was Mr. Bennet's decision, and he had no say in the matter.

"Yes." Mr. Bennet stood up and looked at him with something akin to gratefulness, "You are a good man, Darcy, and I shall be forever in your debt for this gesture of kindness." Darcy felt a momentary embarrassment. After all, he was not doing anything out of kindness; he had been trapped into making this decision.

"But what about the marriage license," Mr. Gardiner also stood up, "did you find it where your brother said he had placed it?"

"Yes," he took it out and placed it in his hands, "it is in my name."

Darcy hung his head in disappointment. George really had stabbed him in the back; his own brother, his flesh and blood. They were supposed to look out for each other, just like they did as young lads as one of them would climb up the apple tree and the other would keep watch for the gardener. Did George really think that Darcy had been trying to destroy his life? Or had Farnsworth been turning his heart against him again? But George was not a child. Darcy sighed and took the license and letter back from Mr. Bennet. He placed them into his breast pocket: close to his heart that cried out at the deception that Darcy had faced at the hands of George, his little brother.

"I should leave now." Darcy took a step towards the door, "I will see you at the church."

Mr. Bennet nodded as he stared at his shoes, and Mr. Gardiner walked him to the entrance in thoughtful silence.

"I know that your brother has fairly made it impossible for you to act otherwise," he said, as they stopped near Darcy's carriage, "but you **could have** acted selfishly, Mr. Darcy;" he said respectfully, "however, you will prove to be a better husband for Elizabeth than your brother would have."

Darcy nodded and stepped inside the carriage. It was done: he was to marry a woman he knew nothing about, and who he did not esteem. He sighed, deciding once again not to think upon it. He still had one more conversation that he had to have, with Georgiana.

He tiredly stepped down off the carriage and made his way to the stairs, looking dazedly as servants passed him by to enter the ball room, which was being set up for the wedding breakfast. Darcy climbed up the stairs and went to Georgiana's room, where both she and Anne were getting ready. After being admitted, he ordered the maid to leave and then turned towards them.

"George has left London," he said resignedly, "he says that he does not want to marry Miss Elizabeth anymore;" Georgiana's eyes were expanding rather alarmingly as she grabbed on to Anne's small hand, "therefore, I shall be marrying Miss Elizabeth today."

"No!" Georgiana cried out, as Anne clasped her hand to her mouth. "George would never do that! He could not place you in such a dilemma William; he would not." Darcy took one step and Georgiana was in his arms.

"I am sorry child," he kissed her head softly as his eyes pleaded the soft brown ones of Anne to help him and Georgiana, "but this is the truth. But no harm done; I shall fit his shoes admirably," he tried to joke but nobody laughed. Nobody even smiled.

Slowly but surely Anne took Georgiana out of her brother's arms and sat her down, as she called for a maid to bring her some wine. Darcy exited the room quietly, and went to his own chambers as he made a mental note of having a word with Mrs. White, as well. The mistress's room had also to be prepared.

* * *

He watched as his future wife appeared at the door of the church on her father's arm, her face hidden behind the frothy veil, her step sure, and her gait graceful. They stopped next to him and Mr. Bennet stepped back. The ceremony began, and besides a few absentminded delays on Miss Elizabeth's part, went on uneventfully till the very end. Darcy sighed in relief as he handed her into the carriage, and was amazed at her silent acquiescence throughout the ceremony.

Her face had been covered by the net, but Darcy could see her vacant expression, and knew that she was not paying attention. Her mind was somewhere else; she was only following the motions, not feeling them. He looked carefully at her as she stared out the window, and realized that she had not looked at him once and was most probably unaware that she had married him. **She did not know; **another responsibility that he had to take over.

His mind was still not functioning properly as he led her to his study instead of the bedroom, for he knew that Mrs. White must still be preparing it for his wife. **His wife. **He stared at her back as she breathed deeply and then threw back her veil and turned around.

"Mr. Darcy," she looked at him in astonishment.

"Mrs. Darcy," he said solemnly, bowing a little, the words felt alien on his tongue. He knew that he would have to enlighten her soon, before he introduced her to the servants, before she went to their rooms, and before the guests started to arrive, "you seem startled."

"Oh, it is nothing," she said in a relatively calm voice, "I thought you were my husband."

"You were right," he took a step towards her. The moment had come, **"I am your husband."**

He watched without moving as she fell back on the sofa, her expressions that of a bewildered child, her eyes full of questions, her hands clasped to her mouth. He felt sorry for her, and strangely for himself as well, as he proceeded further towards her. They were two people bound in a most sacred relationship, and yet it had only come about through the deception and lies of people they held closest to their hearts: his brother and her father.

* * *

"My nose hurts, George," Farnsworth complained as George stared out at Darcy House from the discreetly parked carriage, "your giant of a brother broke it."

"If he had not," he turned around and looked at him in disgust, "I would have! Now shut the hell up, they have arrived."

He looked on as Darcy climbed down and then extended his hand and grasped the hand of Elizabeth. Something brutally clutched his heart, and gnawed at it till he felt it bleed. Elizabeth climbed down and placed her hand in the crook of his brother's arm. George breathed with difficulty as Darcy led his new bride into the house, closing the door behind them, shutting George out: out of their lives, out of their minds, out of the happiness that was rightfully his.

"Why did you do it, Farnsworth?" He asked his friend for the thousandth time that day, ever since he had come to collect George from the brothel where he had spent night in a drunken sleep.

"George, do not be a fool," he said lazily, as he grazed his hand over his bandaged nose. "You wanted this. I did not force you to do anything."

"But you drugged me and left me at a brothel, while my brother married my woman," he sat up forward in his seat, '_just__ like I drugged Elizabeth, and took advantage of __**her**__ intoxicated state,' _he thought sadly.

"Because I wanted to save you the trouble of making a royal fool of yourself in front of the whole of your acquaintance," he shrugged his heavy shoulders. "Everyone is under the impression that it is **Darcy's** wedding, not yours. And need I remind you that you could not have married her, since the marriage license is in your brother's name?"

"But I wanted to marry her," he hung his head and said morosely. "William could have arranged something, made some excuse, delayed the wedding."

"Do not be such a child about it, George," Farnsworth said consolingly as he tapped the roof of the carriage and it set out towards the road that was going to take them to Pexley, Farnsworth's estate in Essex, "think of it as an adventure that you'll soon forget."

George fell back in his seat and closed his eyes, sadness engulfing him from all sides. He would never forget, **could **never forget; she was his love, his first love. No woman would ever be able to replace her in his mind. That she was once his, and he let her go for some juvenile game of revenge that Farnsworth had planted into his mind, drove him towards the edge. It had all turned around on him, like retribution.

She was Elizabeth: untainted by the vile of the world, innocent of evil, pure of heart and untouched by any man. But that was going to change tonight, he winced, and shut his eyes tighter. He knew his brother: Darcy had to brand everything that was his; he would make her his own in every sense of the word. George's Elizabeth would become Darcy's tonight, and there was nothing he could do about it; it was his punishment for what he had done to her.

George opened his eyes in anxiety and stared at the passing scenery, his beloved's face plastered to his mind as she danced in his arms, smiled mischievously at him, teased him, laughed at him, scolded him, slapped him, hated him. He moved his hand in front of his face. He loved her and she hated him. There was a God indeed…and He was Just.

***End of Part-I***

* * *

**Next up is Part II – From London to Pemberley**

**Next Chapter: The Newlyweds Argue**


	16. Chapter 16

**A/N: **A few things before we start with Part-II. I have thought a lot about whether or not I should put George into this one, but finally decided not to, because I started to write his POV but it sounded kind of crazy so I dropped it altogether. So those of you who hate him, there will be no George in Part-II.

Without George, there would obviously not be any suspense either. This part is only going to be about Elizabeth and Darcy getting to know each other and mostly about Darcy overcoming his prejudice (or maybe not :P).

Also, I would like to apologize for any era inappropriateness in the story…please bear with me for now and once the story is done, I'll go back and revise everything according to your suggestions.

A very big thanks to Anna, she knows why.

I would like to thank you guys for your amazing reviews. I would try to update regularly once again.

**PART II – FROM LONDON TO PEMBERLEY**

**Chapter 16: The Newlyweds Argue**

"I…uh…huh…wah…um…Good Lord," her hand traveled up from her mouth to her temple as she blabbered incoherently. Darcy walked further into the room without saying anything, not knowing what to say. "M-Mr. Darcy, p-please…I do not…," she left the sentence unfinished.

Darcy stopped right in front of her and produced George's letter from his coat for the third time that day, and held it out for her to read, not having the strength to read it aloud himself. Elizabeth took it from him with a shaking hand and read it with a horror-struck expression. Darcy watched her as her look changed from horror to understanding to disbelief as she finally crumpled the paper in her hand and turned her confused gaze up at him.

"I do not comprehend," she whispered, "was everything a fabrication?"

Darcy sighed deeply and then sat beside her on the plush sofa. He had no answers to give, no queries to satisfy, no strength to keep standing.

"But it is **your brother **that I married,"she turned towards him with her eyes wide with incredulity.

"No," he said placing his head back on the sofa, "you married me." Her incredulity at the whole occurrence was soothing to his senses, for it was proof that she was not involved in George's petty game of vengeance.

Suddenly she jumped up and started pacing around the room, looking rather ridiculous with her slightly skewed hat and a veil that flew after her at every desperate turn.

"Kindly help me to understand," she said in a calmer tone of voice as Darcy tried not to think of how wonderful she smelt as she came near and then paced away, "you discovered that your brother was missing, and then," she stopped for a moment, "did you endeavour to find him?"

"Of course," he frowned, "you do not think that I would…,"

"I do not know what I think at this moment, Mr. Darcy," she cut his sentence short, waving her hand in the air and recommencing with her frantic pacing, "so you tried to look for him, failing which you approached my father and he consented to…to…**this?"**

Darcy nodded, it was pretty simple, he could not understand why she was having such a hard time comprehending it all.

**"Without **bothering to ask **me,"** she stopped in front of him and cried suddenly, jerking Darcy out from his comfortable position, "did I not deserve the courtesy of being told who I was about to marry?"

"This is not a question that you should be posing to me," he countered her fiery gaze with a steely one of his own, trying to maintain a hold on himself all the while.

"Then who should I be asking this of," she grabbed her hat, wrenched it off her head and threw it down on the wooden floor, "it was you who propositioned this, did you not?"

"Against my will," he spat as he abruptly stood up to his full height, "and it was your father who chose not to tell you, therefore it was **his **preference, not** mine."**

Darcy could very well understand her agony, for he was going through the same, but he was unable to fathom why he was the focus of her ire. She was acting as though she was the only one distressed by the situation they had found themselves in when he was equally, if not more, affected.

"It was your decision, Mr. Darcy," she stepped closer in defiance, "yours alone, my father simply did not have any other option."

"Neither did I," he glowered at her as she breathed raggedly, "have you not read the letter? My family's name was on line, my sister's future was at risk, what alternative did I have? I could not very well go sauntering off into the sunset without taking my responsibilities into account. The whole world was under the impression that **I **was marrying you, not my brother."

He felt his self-control slowly begin to crumble under her provocative words, a self-control that had already fallen to pieces once before that morning. He had no intention of breaking with propriety now, as he had done at Farnsworth House, but she was tempting him sorely.

"But you could at least have enlightened **me,"** she looked at him with eyes like burning embers, "I had a right to know."

"A right denied you by your father," he said angrily moving towards her, "do not try to embroil me into what is not my liability."

"I do not care whose fault this is," she cried in irritation as she pulled her veil off her head and crumpled it into a ball, "but I cannot accept this farce of a marriage."

"It does not matter what you can or cannot accept," he took a deep breath in order to compose himself, "for what is done, cannot be undone."

"Of course it can," she said with a sudden excitement in her manner as the veil fell down from her hands, "I insist that you have this marriage annulled, immediately."

"Do you really think," Darcy's voice went eerily quiet as he bowed over her, their faces inches away, "that I will jeopardize everything I have sacrificed for, to satisfy your silly whims?"

"Is not satisfying my silly whims one of your duties now?" She mocked as she placed her hands on his coat in an effort to push him away as Darcy steadily eliminated all distance between them.

"Is not obeying mine, yours?" He breathed in her scent before breathing down on her face. She was making him mad with her pointless tantrum when both of them knew that their fates were now united, forever.

"You are in for a surprise Mr. Darcy," she pushed him back a bit and looked up sardonically at him, "if you think that I shall make you a docile little bride. You have made an unbeneficial bargain."

"I agree," he scoffed as he stepped back and squared his shoulders, "but you have made a rather lucrative one," he stopped for a moment and took in her confused expression, "you made a play for the second son with limited property and diminishing inheritance and ended up catching the first son who has much more to bestow upon you."

He could see the shock on her face before it coloured to an angry red as she clenched her fists. Darcy stared at her steadily, knowing well that she could not possibly have an answer to this; grasping woman that she was, she shall obviously benefit more form marrying him than she would have if she had married George.

"Yes," she whispered, "I am very fortunate indeed," her voice was steadily rising, "for I bargained for a womanizing libertine, and got arrogance personified instead," she was almost shouting now, "my luck could not have taken a more opportune turn."

"That is enough madam," Darcy was now angered beyond command, "you have once before called me something to this effect as well, but it was unjust then as it is now."

"Examine your words Mr. Darcy and tell me if there is any other light in which I can see you," he watched her tremble as she tried to master her emotions, "is that what a groom of not even an hour supposed to say to his bride?"

"What else is a groom supposed to say to a bride of not even an hour, **demanding an annulment?"** He raked his hand through his hair in agitation as he stepped further away from her, "that she is looking breathtakingly beautiful?"

"God forbid I ever ask you to utter such unthinkable falsehoods," she mocked as she walked off to the fireplace and placed her elbows on it her head dropped into her hands, "oh what a tangle this is," her muffled voice came form behind her hands.

Darcy slowly bent and picked up her hat and veil, a tangle it sure was, but the two of them had made it worse by instigating an argument the moment they got a chance to, this was not a good omen for their life together. He placed the two articles on a table and stepped towards her.

"The guests will start to arrive in an hour," he told her coldly, "I have to introduce you to the household staff and you can rest for a while if you want to, after that."

She raised her head from her hands and nodded as she turned around and looked blearily at him.

"Please tell me that this is all just a horrible dream and that I would wake up from it unmarried and back at my home," she pleaded with him.

"I wish there was someone who could tell me the same," his shoulders dropped in misery, perhaps he should have thought of some alternative. Everything seemed terribly twisted now that he knew that she was probably just as averse to marrying him as he was to her.

"Can our nuptials really not be annulled?" She asked him wistfully, her eyes begging him to say that it could.

"Do you truly want them to be?" He asked gravely looking carefully at her, "ponder my query wisely, think of the consequences and then answer me."

He watched in fascination as various emotions warred on her face for dominance and at last defeat succeeded. Her shoulders slumped, and her eyes dropped. She had lost, just like him.

"Shall we meet the staff now?" She asked staring at the floor. Darcy wordlessly held out his hand and she delicately placed her own in it.

They stepped outside the study and found everyone assembled there. He introduced her to the housekeeper, Mrs. White, who took it over from there. Darcy watched his bride as she gracefully greeted everyone and received their congratulations, at least she was not a source of embarrassment like her mother.

"I left my hat and veil in your study," she said halting in the middle of the stairs as he was escorting her up towards their rooms.

"They shall be delivered to…ahem…our rooms," she blushed at the word **our **and they proceeded upwards till both the young bride and groom were standing in an awkward silence in front of a large mahogany door.

"Th-this is your door," he shuffled his feet awkwardly, suddenly feeling on edge, "mine is the next one." Darcy groaned as soon as the words were out of his mouth and the colour was in her face, _'what an idiotic thing to say,' _he chided himself and knew that he must say something else quickly to hide his idiocy. "I hope that you shall be able to master your tongue in front of the guests and not lash out at them the way you just did at me," he had wanted to stop at _'I hope' _but this time it was his tongue that he had no control over. He saw Elizabeth's eyes widen before they burned as he moved towards her in alarm at his own words.

"Rest assured, Mr. Darcy," she looked angrily at him, "your guests are safe from me since it is not their fault that you** tricked **me into marrying you."

"For the thousandth time, it was not my intention to keep you in the dark," Darcy had meant to apologize for his harsh words immediately, but her response had made him forget everything else, as usual.

"But it is definitely your intention to make me feel inferior and unworthy of the great Darcy name," she lashed out at him once again, though thankfully in a hushed tone. He could not believe that they were fighting at the entrance to their rooms, on the first day, nay the first hour of their marriage.

"I had not meant for it to sound that way," he shrugged his shoulders at her, in a haughty manner.

"I truly wish that what you mean to say and what you actually do, would start sounding the same," she said mockingly, "for it is quite bewildering, Mr. Darcy, and I do lack the **accomplishment** of reading your mind."

"But not that of putting it on edge," he felt his ire rising again, _'oh how she goads me.'_

"This, coming from a man," she raised her eyebrows at him as she started to turn away from him and towards the door, "who infuriates me till I do not know what I am saying?"

_'Oh no,' _Darcy thought in irritation, _'you do not insult me and then turn your back and vanish away.'_ He took another step towards her bringing their faces close, his coloured with ire and hers flushed with fury.

"And this, coming from a woman, whose insolence goads me till I lose sense of what I am doing?" He retorted as their eyes stared at each other angrily, and slowly his anger began to dissipate. Darcy gulped, the heat of the argument gradually evolving into another kind of heat.

She was so close and so damningly appealing, if only she was not so feisty. But no, that was part of her charm, it was the fire in Elizabeth that made him so helplessly attracted to her, even as she stood in front of him calling him all manner of names. Her hot breath touched his neck and something burned inside him.

"Ahem…," someone cleared their throat and Darcy looked up, it was Mrs. White with a maid by her side. The awkward expressions on their faces made him realize how he and Elizabeth must appear to them, with their bodies almost touching and their faces splotched red.

Darcy quickly stepped away from his wife as if burned. She glared at him for a moment before entering the room as he held the door open for her and then in a quick stride, reached his own and entered without looking back. He loosened his cravat and threw it down on the bed as his valet entered through the dressing room and started gathering the clothes he had discarded to have them steam pressed again before he went down.

Darcy dropped down onto his bed and covered his face with his hands. This was, beyond a doubt, the most horrible day of his life. The awful spat that they had just had, the cruel words that were exchanged, the hateful manner in which they eyed each other and the resentment that lingered in their hearts had sufficiently made it impossible for them to have a happy married life. How were these obstacles to be got over?

He slowly sat up and corrected his shirt and breeches, wondering how things might have been if George had not made the bunk. Would Elizabeth have fought just as vehemently with his brother as well, or would she have shown him some mercy? He had never wished for a meek wife, unlike what Elizabeth asserted, but he had not wished for a fire breathing dragon either. _'George,' _his heart contracted painfully as he cracked his knuckles in agitation, his thoughtless brother who had altered Darcy's life beyond even his own recognition, and beyond repair.

There were difficulties ahead, and for the first time in his life, Darcy had no idea how he was going to conquer them. He picked up the comb and started running it through his dark hair absentmindedly, hoping that Elizabeth would be able to master her impulse of having the last word in every argument without realizing that he had started to think of her as just 'Elizabeth'.

* * *

Elizabeth allowed the young maid, Elsie to take off her pelisse, sit her down on the dressing stool and start fixing her hair as some strands and pins had come loose. Mrs. Gardiner had advised her to take Georgiana's help in enlisting an abigail for herself since she did not know anyone who would be proficient enough to assist the future Mrs. Darcy. Georgiana had felt thrilled at the application and had assured Elizabeth that she would not be disappointed in her choice of a maid. Elizabeth sighed, the efficiency or lack thereof, of her maid was the least of her troubles in that moment.

"Yes, Mrs. White," Elizabeth tried to smile at the austere looking woman, but failed, which was just as well, for the housekeeper did not seem like someone who cared much for smiles, "everything is perfect."

_'Everything except my life,' _she thought bitterly. The room was done in a soft shade of beige, which was soothing and even though the furnishings were not of the latest design, they were of a variety that Elizabeth would never have thought to be in her possession. The bed was made to perfection, with not even one wrinkle to catch the eye, the canopy hanging exactly as it should.

"Would you be needing anything else?" Mrs. White asked and Elizabeth blinked, _'an annulment, if you please.'_

"I thank you, Mrs. White," Elizabeth sighed and looked at her in the mirror, "that will be all."

The housekeeper curtseyed and left quietly while the maid fixed a pin in her hair, safely tucking the last stray lock away. Elizabeth suddenly got startled by a knock on the door.

"Enter," she said weakly, dreading that the knock was that of Mr. Darcy.

"Elizabeth," Georgiana entered with a maid carrying a box behind her. Elizabeth sighed with relief at the sight of the young girl, who she knew would be her key support in the coming days. She quickly got off her perch, holding out both her hands for Georgiana to take and then allowing her to kiss her on the cheek.

"We are sisters at last," she beamed at her, and Elizabeth smiled in spite of herself. "Are you ready," Georgiana asked her, "should I let the maids go,? There is something I want to show you?"

"Of course, dearest," Elizabeth said pleasantly and watched fondly as Georgiana's cheeks flushed at the endearment, "there is nothing more that I have to add to my apparel."

"Oh but there is," her new sister smiled beautifully and then told the maids to leave, "are you sure that you are ready to go downstairs, now?"

"Indeed Georgiana," she felt deeply curious, "what is it? Do not keep me in suspense."

Georgiana giggled but then grew serious as the door closed behind the two maids. She quietly led Elizabeth to the loveseat by the wall and they sat on it.

"I am sorry Elizabeth," she began tentatively, looking at her in trepidation, "this must be awful for you."

Elizabeth sucked in a hasty breath, of course it was awful for her, awful did not even begin to describe what she was going through. She looked towards Georgiana's pained young face, and she did not have the heart to tell her what horrible men she had for brothers, in Elizabeth's opinion at least. She must smile for the benefit of her own family as well as her husband's.

"No," she said firmly, resolved to lie through her teeth that day, for the people who cared about her happiness and who were affected by her sorrow, "it is not." She saw the confused expression on Georgiana's face and knew that she had to put her at ease somehow, "Georgiana, I know that my words confuse you, and I am determined to elucidate it all, but would you mind waiting for a while?"

"Of course not," she said quickly, "I only want you to be happy."

"And I will be that," she placed her hand on Georgiana's, "soon, if you are there to help me along."

"Always," Georgiana covered her hand with her other hand as her eyes shone with tears, "George has been a fool to let you go."

"This, I heartily agree to," Elizabeth said dryly and Georgiana smiled through her tears, "now show me what you have brought for me."

"Oh yes," she got up and moved towards a door on the left of the room, "but it is not for me to give it to you," she said mysteriously and then knocked on the door.

Elizabeth jumped as the door opened and Mr. Darcy stood in the doorway, tall and formidable, looking questioningly at his sister.

"William, I hope you have not forgotten our family tradition," she smiled up at him and Elizabeth started to feel the first stirrings of unease, _'what is this tradition that she is talking about?' _Elizabeth wondered as she saw Mr. Darcy's eyes become wary. "Come inside the room, please," Georgiana took her brother's hand and tried to pull him into the mistress's chambers.

Mr. Darcy however remained immovable as he raised his steely eyes to Elizabeth's face in question. He was asking for permission to enter her room and, Elizabeth was suddenly sure, would not set foot inside till he was invited to. Elizabeth stood up and smiled, there were perks to having a proud husband after all. She nodded at the said proud husband, for he would never do anything without being invited to first.

Mr. Darcy looked surprised at her sudden change of behaviour, and she could not blame him after the way they had quarreled and hurled jibes at each other. She was just suddenly glad, that he would probably never impose upon her.

"It is a Darcy family tradition that the new bride wears something from her husband's mother, to her reception," Georgiana walked into the room with her brother close behind her, "it should be an accessory to your apparel."

Georgiana smiled and then moved towards the box, opened it and took out a most beautifully embroidered burgundy shawl. Elizabeth felt odd, as though they were cheating on the late Lady Anne Darcy, she did not deserve anything from her in the current circumstances. She looked up to gauge Mr. Darcy's reaction but his face had become impassive once again.

"Here William," Georgiana gave it to Mr. Darcy, who took it from her reverently. "I shall leave you two now," Georgiana turned around and blushed, to Elizabeth's alarm, "your **husband **shall give it to you," she smiled shyly at Elizabeth and then beat a hasty retreat.

Mr. Darcy cleared his throat needlessly and then looked at her in trepidation. Elizabeth though feeling most awkward was amused nonetheless, it would appear that the great Mr. Darcy was wary of her **tongue. **Unconsciously, both of them edged towards each other.

"We do not have to do this," he began in a softer tone, to Elizabeth's surprise, "if you are not comfortable with it."

She looked towards the shawl, a beautiful memory of his mother and then raised her eyes towards his face and found him looking at it as well, a certain sadness in his expression as he unconsciously fingered the fabric. Elizabeth stepped closer, she was not comfortable, no, it was too soon for that and perhaps would always be the same for her, but she could not refuse their family tradition either. She did not have the strength to fight with him anymore that day, _'perhaps tomorrow_,_'_ she joked to herself, _'when I have had a good night's sleep.'_

"It is all right, Mr. Darcy," she said gently, trying to smile, but feeling rigid, "I am comfortable."

"It was my mother's," he said stepping towards her, "but it is not very old," he sounded unsure, "and I am sure that it is kept in very good condition."

"Of course Mr. Darcy," Elizabeth was quick to reassure, "and I shall take care of it just like you have been for all these years."

"I…," he looked at her with something akin to gratefulness in his eyes, "I thank you Miss…uh…err….Mrs. um…Darcy," he suddenly fell silent. He was clearly perplexed at what to call her and Elizabeth was not really sure if she liked the sound of Mrs. Darcy for herself.

"You can call me Elizabeth," she offered, somewhat hesitantly, "if you want to."

"Oh yes," he looked relieved, "Mrs. Darcy does not come easily to my lips."

Elizabeth nodded as they stood there with Mr. Darcy fidgeting with the shawl as he spread it open and Elizabeth wondering what he meant by _Mrs. Darcy not coming easily to his lips. _And then suddenly he was all over her as his arms went behind her and he clumsily wrapped the shawl around her shoulders. Elizabeth blinked and blushed.

"What are you doing?" She hid her smile as he looked at her in confusion, "Mr. Darcy, I am not going out in a snow storm," she teased and he frowned.

"How else do you want it?" He again came near her and took it off her shoulders and hung it on her left shoulder, like a stole, "here, is that all right?"

"No," she chuckled now, "I am not a silly little school girl."

"Now?" He asked as he draped it on her chest with its sides hanging behind her back. Elizabeth was beyond amused now, she was laughing openly and uncontrollably while his face steadily picked up colour as he snatched it off her person and brought it behind her neck and pulled her towards himself by grabbing onto the sides of the shawl.

"This looks perfect," He said and Elizabeth raised her teary eyes to his face, still laughing and could swear that he had a ghost of a smile on his lips as he had uttered those words.

"Most certainly not," she stopped laughing and looked straight into his eyes, "I hope you are not avenging my earlier outbursts by inventing this tradition and using it to your advantage."

"Such a thought would never have crossed my mind," he teased her back and then dropped the shawl, "you do look rather ridiculous this way," he examined her critically and Elizabeth dimpled again.

"Why thank you, Mr. Darcy," she teased, "ridiculous is always preferable to insolent."

And just like that, the light mood that had been building up between them evaporated. Elizabeth could see him crawling back into his shell.

"I never called you that," he said dryly.

"Not exactly that," she agreed, removing the shawl off her neck, "but words to this effect."

"I…I should not have," he said averting his eyes and Elizabeth knew that this was as close to an apology as she was going to get, therefore she sighed and held the shawl out to him, "I am at a loss," he said in mild exasperation, "I believe I have tried every possible arrangement for this poor garment."

"All except one," Elizabeth turned her back towards him, held her elbows close to her ribs and spread out her forearms, "drape the ends on my arms," she directed him and then felt his warmth behind her as he followed her directions.

"You could have told me this before," he complained as he stepped back and Elizabeth walked towards the dresser.

"Oh but I was having too much fun," she half turned towards him, "tell me Mr. Darcy, what scent did your mother use?" Elizabeth did not want to change anything about his mother's precious shawl, and even though she always used the same scent, she was ready to let that go, if only to preserve the memento as it was.

"Orange blossoms," his voice sounded a bit gruff.

"Oh what luck," Elizabeth quickly grabbed her vial of orange blossom essence and applied it liberally to her neck and wrists, "just the same as I." He looked slightly startled.

"Shall we," she stepped towards him and he held out his arm. Elizabeth was almost sure that she felt him inhale the fragrance, almost.

* * *

Elizabeth allowed the footman to pour her wine, not wanting to attract any unnecessary attention, more than she knew that she already was attracting, since the moment she had entered the large round ballroom at Darcy House on its owner's arms. She played with her cheesecake without actually eating it as her husband consumed every delectable pastry that was offered him as though he had married the woman of his dreams instead of his own brother's intended.

It was at Mr. Darcy's request that the wedding breakfast was being held at Darcy House and not a place of the Bennet's choosing. He had simply argued that it would be more convenient for his acquaintance to go to an address they already knew, though Elizabeth had secretly suspected that he did not want any of his friends to be subjected to a wedding breakfast at Cheapside.

She looked sideways at his rapidly emptying plate and found his ease difficult to comprehend, after what had just happened between them. It was true that her silly giggling at his clumsiness with the whole shawl business had somewhat cleared up the air, but his criticism on her manners and his allegation that she had _'made a play' _for his brother, still stung. Just like her retorts must have hurt him.

"You are not drinking, Mrs. Darcy," Lady Matlock's voice brought her out of her reverie and into a dilemma.

Elizabeth smiled softly at her and picked up the drink, even the thought of which made her nauseous. She looked up and found the Earl's eyes fixed on her, unflinchingly, goading her. She breathed in deeply and brought the glass to her lips as her eyes drifted towards the soft brown ones of the one man she esteemed above all. Mr. Bennet was looking at her with an odd expression on his face. Determined to disappoint her father even more than he already was she slightly opened her lips and that was when the goblet was gently taken away from her hands.

"You have a sore throat," she looked up to find Mr. Darcy placing it besides her plate, his expression unreadable as usual.

"I do?" Elizabeth felt startled and he summoned the footman.

"Plain water for Mrs. Darcy."

Elizabeth's heart thudded at this unexpected kindness as she raised her eyes to her father's face again and strangely, found contentment and relief written plainly there. She straightened up and saw the Earl watching Mr. Darcy, a hint of pride on his face as he imperceptibly raised his glass to his nephew, how the nephew reacted, she could not tell.

Elizabeth dropped her gaze down towards the untouched cheesecake and tried to block her mother's voice as she went on and on about the pride and joy of her life, **Mrs. Darcy. **If only she knew, what a liability Mrs. Darcy was considered by Mr. Darcy, perhaps she would be a little less voluble about her daughter's good fortune. Her mother's unexpected insight into her heart the night previous had left Elizabeth quite surprised and somewhat proud of her practicality as well, even though she did not share her sentiments on her own good fortune. Ironically, her mother had said some things that Elizabeth had expected her father to, who had done nothing except forcing his decisions on her, be it in the case of her supposed compromise, or that of her runaway groom.

The morning progressed and Elizabeth comported herself with an outward calm that she was far from feeling inside as she left the table on her husband's arm and started to mingle with the guests. Her aunt and uncle came after her mother and sisters and she could not help but look at them with a gaze that complained of being ill used. Mrs. Gardiner kissed her cheek and whispered softly in her ear. Alas, she did not know either and at the last moment, it was too late for anything to be done. Her uncle simply averted his eyes, which proved that he, at least, knew what was about to happen.

Elizabeth sighed as she held on to Jane's hand as long as she could before Jane was whisked away by Col. Fitzwilliam to another corner of the room and Elizabeth was left with Charlotte.

"You are becoming too wise for your own good, Charlotte," Elizabeth told her friend in irritation as she adjusted her shawl on her arms once again.

"I am just saying that you must have provoked him, Lizzy," Charlotte smiled at her petulance, "for you are rather too apt at doing so."

"I was miserable and astonished beyond belief," Elizabeth turned fully towards her friend and glared at her, while Charlotte just kept on smiling her amused, knowing smile.

"And he was not?" She argued, "oh no, he must be ecstatic at suddenly becoming the lord and master of the all coveted Miss Elizabeth Bennet."

Elizabeth burst out laughing at the picture Charlotte had created; **ecstatic **was not the word she would have used.

"All right so I did goad Mr. Darcy by blaming everything on him and then demanding you know what," Elizabeth said in a lowered voice, for even though they were standing in a corner, anyone could hear them, "but his taunt on my tongue was all his fault," she wrinkled her nose in distaste, "I was being rather nice to him in that moment."

"Nobody said that he was perfect, darling," Charlotte placed her hand on Elizabeth's, "but you must give him time, this is just as much of a shock to him as it is to you. You are not the only one suffering here, contrary to what you might think."

"Perhaps," Elizabeth looked towards him as he stood by Mr. Bennet, both her father and her husband were looking at her. Elizabeth felt uncomfortable, _'were they discussing her?' _She wondered.

"Do not tell me Lizzy, that you are not a little relieved at ending up marrying him and not his brother," Charlotte whispered in her ears and Elizabeth had the grace to blush. It was true that anyone will be infinitely preferable to George. She looked towards him again and he had now moved on to her Uncle as they earnestly discussed something. Mr. Darcy was certainly a much better substitute for his rake of a brother, if only he would stop provoking her.

"Stop staring at you husband, Lizzy," Lydia was suddenly upon her with Kitty in tow, "even though he is rather too handsome for his own good."

Charlotte, Kitty and Lydia laughed merrily while Elizabeth blushed once again.

"What a joke when we saw him instead of Mr. George," Lydia said loudly and Kitty pinched her while Elizabeth paled for the fear of someone accidentally hearing them, "I thought I should faint, and Mama almost did," she whispered as she rubbed her arm where Kitty's fingers had left a mark. "You would not believe it, but Jane actually wanted to stop the wedding."

"Do keep your voice down, Lydia," Charlotte admonished, "people can hear you in the next room."

"La, there is no one in the next room," Lydia giggled, "me and Kitty already checked." Elizabeth groaned at Kitty's guilty smile, it seemed as though the youngest Bennets had been touring the house.

"Lizzy," Kitty suddenly called her, "do you know why the Baron did not come? I was hoping to see him."

"La, he is so fat," Lydia made a face, "look how so many men have gathered around Jane," Lydia pointed towards where Jane sat looking slightly uncomfortable with four young gentlemen standing and sitting around her. Mary and Georgiana were deep in conversation nearby as well. "Let us go and steal some of her admirers."

Elizabeth shook her head slightly as she watched them go, it was no use trying to lecture them on how to behave, they were too set in their ways now. She only hoped that Mr. Bennet would have learned something from her experience and would now, keep an eye on at least his two youngest daughters.

"Lizzy, there is something I wanted to say to you," Charlotte's voice dropped as she drew Elizabeth further into the corner, "an advice, if you may."

"I have always heeded your advise, Charlotte," Elizabeth looked at her friend puzzled, "you can say anything you want to me, do not stand on ceremony now that I am married."

"Lizzy," Charlotte took a deep breath and then looked straight into her eyes, "you have a problem, and it is your temper and your pride," Elizabeth started to say something but Charlotte stopped her by raising a hand, "let me finish. Though none of** this** is your fault, but perhaps it could have been avoided if you had not slapped Mr. George Darcy."

Elizabeth was stunned, this was not how she remembered things. George was a rake and a scoundrel, he would have done this to her regardless of whether she had slapped him or not. How could Charlotte say such nonsense? She looked towards her friend with a hurt expression and Charlotte quickly grabbed her hand.

"Lizzy if I do not advice you, I am afraid no one will," she pressed her fingers lightly, "you are about to enter the most difficult phase of your life where you shall have to make certain compromises. Mr. Darcy is not a dishonourable person, but nor is he a door mat, whilst dealing with him you must remember that he is a man used to his orders being followed indisputably. Do not question him needlessly, dearest, learn his motives first. Perhaps what you think as pride and arrogance might only turn out to be a reserved manner, cultivated carefully to avoid over familiarity with strangers."

Elizabeth kept looking at Charlotte with a vacant expression, this was something she might have expected from her father or Mrs. Gardiner, but Charlotte sure was wise beyond her years.

"You must keep your temper and impulse in check," Charlotte continued, "he is your life partner now, not a casual acquaintance that you can argue with and then move on. No Lizzy, every word you utter, every argument you instigate, is going to be taken into account and might have the power to affect the rest of your life. So do not, dear friend, take this lightly, do not be quick to fight and misunderstand, be instead, quick to forgive and value."

"I…Charlotte…I," Elizabeth stuttered a bit, "do you really think that I should change myself in order to please my husband? This is not a happy picture of my life to come."

"I am not asking you to give up your spirit, darling," Charlotte pressed her fingers again, "for I am sure that is what Mr. Darcy would, in time, learn to love the most. I just want you to be patient in the face of change, to be tolerant of his faults and appreciative of his merits. My words might sound harsh to you now but in every marriage, some compromise has to be reached if both parties want to be happy, and if they think that happiness to be worth the compromise. So make concessions when needed but not at the cost of losing your personality. I am sure even Mr. Darcy will not want that." She smiled in the end, while Elizabeth looked at her with a thoughtful expression.

"I shall try," she tried to smile, but it got lost somewhere along with her thoughts as she feared that perhaps marriage was going to be more difficult than she had supposed, "but even you must understand that it is too early for me to forget everything and act as though it is a marriage conceived under ordinary circumstances."

"Do not worry, Lizzy," Charlotte smiled at her consolingly as Col. Fitzwilliam and Miss de Bourgh walked towards them, "I am sure he would also be trying to make this marriage work and he does seem to be a rather steadfast gentleman."

Elizabeth was in the middle of rolling her eyes when her new cousins approached and started an amiable conversation with Charlotte. Elizabeth stood silently with them, her mind occupied with Charlotte's council when she suddenly found herself face to face with none other than Lady Felicity and Lord Barrington, along with Mr. Darcy.

"It pains me to call you Mrs. Darcy," Lord Barrington immediately resorted to his flirtatious mode after the initial greetings. Elizabeth looked towards Mr. Darcy to gauge his reaction but he seemed unperturbed so she decided to have a little fun on the worst day of her life.

"It pains me to hear you say it, my lord," she said teasingly as Col. Fitzwilliam's loud and his betrothed's soft laughter boomed around them. Charlotte merely smiled, while Lady Felicity stared at her with her beautiful green eyes. Lord Barrington however, looked ecstatic, Mr. Darcy's expression remained unchanged.

"Darcy has always been a lucky fellow," Lord Barrington continued in the same envious tone, "but this time his luck has far surpassed everything else."

Elizabeth's gaze crossed Charlotte's briefly and both friends exchanged a hardly noticeable eye roll. She turned towards Mr. Darcy then, and found him looking slightly uncomfortable.

"Truer words are yet to be uttered, Lord Barrington," she smiled sweetly at her husband, whose frown had begun to show. Lord Barrington laughed softly and captured her hand in his. Elizabeth felt odd and could not help looking towards Mr. Darcy in a guarded manner. _'Is this even proper?' _She wondered. Perhaps this was how things were done by the ton, but she was not entirely comfortable with it.

"I hope then you shall be happy to see us at Pemberley this summer," he looked straight into her eyes and Elizabeth was confused at his words, "Darcy invited me and my sister over before he got engaged to you," Elizabeth looked up and found Mr. Darcy colour and Lady Felicity grow pale, "I hope he has not changed his mind now that he has much better company to keep him occupied."

Elizabeth blushed and searched her husband's face, who in turn looked questioningly at her. She suddenly felt sorry for Mr. Darcy and Lady Felicity, if all had gone well, they would have gotten engaged by now. She sighed, it might be uncomfortable for the two of them to be together again at Pemberley with Elizabeth in the picture, but the invitation could not be retrieved now.

"Oh Perry, has anyone ever told you that you talk too much?" Lady Felicity chided her brother in a soft melodious voice, "of course we cannot go anymore," she turned towards Elizabeth with a heartbreaking smile, "forgive my brother Mrs. Darcy, he often forgets what he is saying."

"Oh but you are more than welcome, my lady," she quickly said, feeling her pain, "I shall love to have company at Pemberley for I come from a house of five daughters and would indeed feel terribly alone if left to my own devices. I absolutely insist that you come."

Lady Felicity looked startled at such a cordial invitation and smiled genuinely at her. Elizabeth could see that Mr. Darcy looked relieved as well.

"I told you that she was different," Lord Barrington beamed at her, still holding her hand, "quite unlike the ton oddities."

"That will be quite enough of you complimenting Darcy's wife, Perry," Col. Fitzwilliam chimed in, "you can see him going red, can you not?"

"Why else do you think I am saying all this?" The young Lord, hardly older than three and twenty pulled Elizabeth towards him and she could not help but chuckle lightly. But then she delicately took her hand out of his grasp and moved to stand by an offended looking Mr. Darcy.

"I think I can safely say that Mr. Darcy will never be jealous of anyone on **my **behalf," she softly placed her hand on his arm and he looked down at her with his grey eyes growing cold as he understood her meaning, "we know each other too well for **that."**

She knew that Mr. Darcy understood her by the stiffening of his arm. Both of them knew well that they had no love lost for each other, and jealousy for a rival had no place in a heart that had no one to love.

"Then you must know," Miss de Bourgh teased, "that William is a very possessive fellow and will demand to be first in your eyes."

"Surely Mr. Darcy must also know," Charlotte suddenly spoke up, startling Elizabeth, "that the mere mention of the word **demand **will be enough to goad Elizabeth into doing the exact opposite." Elizabeth stared at her friend while Charlotte looked directly at her husband as if trying to impart some of her 'advice' to him as well.

"You can rest assured, Miss Lucas," Mr. Darcy said meaningfully to her friend, "that I shall never demand anything of her that she does not want to give willingly," he turned towards her at the end of the sentence.

Elizabeth feared that it was now her turn to show her malleability, her friend's eyes were telling her that it was her chance to show him that she was not all about arguments and retorts. But she felt at a loss, she did not know how to give her assurance without lying, without negating her inner voice. After all, only a few hours ago, he had made her his wife without first informing her of the decision, how could she trust him to not go behind her back again?

"And nothing that he asks," Elizabeth raised her eyes to his hard grey ones, "could ever be construed as a demand by me." They stared at each other for a few moments till Lord Barrington coughed lightly. Elizabeth looked up to find Charlotte smiling appreciatively at her.

"Well I had come here to stir trouble in Eden," Lord Barrington smiled devilishly, "my aim sufficiently thwarted, I would now like to move on to greener pastures," Elizabeth smiled despite feeling guilty about lying, Lord Barrington certainly was a very interesting personage. "Will you accompany me, Miss Lucas?" He asked Charlotte who though amazed, was quick to accept his left arm as Lady Felicity placed her hand on his right one. As everyone moved away, Elizabeth pulled Mr. Darcy slightly towards herself.

"I lied," she admitted matter-of-factly.

"I know," he turned towards her, a look of understanding in his eyes.

"For you," she continued in a small voice, "because you also…"

"Lied for you?" He questioned, interrupting her, a half smile playing upon his lips.

"Yes," she nodded and then uttered earnestly, "I really do loathe…"

"Wine?" He interrupted her again, "I remembered your aversion to alcohol," he told her as they stood silently for a few moments just looking at each other. "I do not like to lie," he began after a slight hesitation, "let us never lie to each other."

"Yes," she said gently, "but lying **for **each other is a different matter altogether, isn't it?"

His eyes softened once again as they had when he was assisting her with the shawl. He did not open his lips, merely nodded and then led her to the table where a Darcy cousin of his father's sat with his family. Elizabeth felt at ease for the first time that day, she was right to take Charlotte's advice.

* * *

"Show me the ring, my dear," Mrs. Edmund Darcy, a very tall woman with sharp features asked her as Elizabeth seated herself at their table.

Elizabeth had all but forgotten about her wedding ring, she raised her hand and beheld it for the first time that day. She blanched as her eyes fell on it. Never in her life had she seen an uglier thing. It was of gold, a broad band with a plain black sapphire sitting in the middle of it without any diamonds surrounding it. The craftsmanship was unsophisticated and the cut of the stone crude, it was hideous, just like the facts behind her marriage. She heard Mrs. Edmund Darcy gasp and looked up to see her startled expression.

"He gave you Désiréé's ring," she said in a hollow voice, as if she could not believe what her eyes beheld.

Elizabeth vaguely remembered the portrait of a seductive woman bearing a striking resemblance to Mr. Darcy and the mention of a ring in George's letter. The ring was ugly to be sure, but she could not fathom Mrs. Edmund Darcy's reaction.

"Désiréé d'Aubigne?" She questioned, "Mr. Darcy's great grandmother?"

"And my husband's grandmother," she told him, "a most scandalous woman by all accounts."

"And this was her ring?" Elizabeth looked at the yellow gold ring again.

"Yes," she said looking disapprovingly at the ring, "I thought William had more sense than to give you this monstrosity."

"He probably does," Elizabeth smiled, "it was his brother's doing."

"I should have known that he would be up to no good," Mrs. Edmund relaxed quickly, "ill as he is."

Elizabeth merely nodded, knowing well that the Darcys must have concocted some story to relate for the absence of the groom's younger brother. She looked up towards her husband and found him listening respectfully to the very voluble Mr. Edmund Darcy.

"It is a coincidence you know, for he called her Elizabeth," Mrs. Edmund Darcy spoke up and Elizabeth turned towards her without actually paying much attention. "Désiréé's husband," she said with a sudden half smile that gave her sharp featured face a softer look, "Fitzwilliam Darcy."

Elizabeth started for a moment and then looked at the ring again, it was still dreadful.

"I thought Fitzwilliam was the Matlocks' family name?" Elizabeth looked at the older woman in confusion.

"Oh yes," she smiled, "but theirs was not the first Darcy-Fitzwilliam union. These two families go a long way back."

She looked around feeling bored and tired. Some of her previous agitation had returned again as well. She looked towards Mr. Darcy and found him getting off his seat, she quickly got up as well, not wanting to know anything else about the mysterious Désiréé. The guests had begun to leave, and the hosts now had to see them off.

It was tedious and unnerving as well. The manner that most of the women regarded her in, was strange to say the least, but still cruder was the way the gentlemen eyed her. She shuddered as the Fitzwilliams left and wrapped her shawl more tightly about her as she saw her father preparing to depart also. Something gnawed at her heart, the temporary ease evaporated quickly as Mr. Bennet came towards her. There was a time that the two of them needed no words between them, they understood each other perfectly, but the Darcys had changed that.

"Can I have a word with my daughter in private, Darcy?" Mr. Bennet looked directly at her husband, who was standing next to her, surprising her in the extreme.

"Of course, Mr. Bennet," he said respectfully and then asked a footman to take the father and daughter to his study.

Elizabeth did not know what her father was going to say, or why he had asked for a private audience with her, she only knew that she would not be able to take anymore accusations from him. She walked on his arm following the stiff looking footman, her mind in a jumble.

"Lizzy," as soon as the door shut behind the footman, Mr. Bennet turned towards her, his hands moving to her shoulders.

"Lizzy?" She asked in bewilderment, "I had no idea that marriage into a rich family was required to restore me to your good graces."

"You never needed to be restored to anything my dear," her heart skipped a beat at the loving tone of her father's voice, something that she had been yearning for, for almost four weeks now, "you never lost my trust."

"Never lost your trust?" Elizabeth's large eyes expanded further as she stepped away from him and walked off towards the sofa that she had only just occupied a few hours ago, "Papa, will you please elaborate on this statement, for I am at a complete loss as how to understand your meaning since it is at complete odds with your actions?"

"Sit by me," he walked towards her and took her hand as he seated her down besides him, "I am well aware that I have a lot of explaining to do."

Elizabeth kept looking at him in confusion as her fingers gripped his hand tightly. For her, it was enough that he had not jerked his hand away, but had held onto her.

"It was never your character that I did not trust, Lizzy," he began tentatively as his thick eyebrows came together in a frown, "it was your judgment and your impulsive temperament that made me act the way I did."

"Papa," she said in a tired voice, "the past four weeks have been agony for me, mostly because I could not talk to you about any of it. Much as I like that we are back on talking terms, I have to tell you that I cannot take even another moment of suspense. For God's sake, tell me your motives and quickly."

"I…," he began hesitatingly as Elizabeth's heart clenched uncomfortably at the expectation of something dreadful, "when I saw you there, with **him," **he winced and then continued in a low voice, "I could not believe my eyes," he said staring at some unknown spot on the expensive Persian rug, "and when you failed to come up with any suitable answer, for a moment I did think that perhaps…you…it…that it was consensual."

Elizabeth closed her eyes as she extracted her hand from Mr. Bennet's and laid back on the arm of the sofa. He was about to tell her why he had doubted her, or had not doubted her. Much as she had wanted to hear him admit that he was wrong, she was afraid that she would not be able to look at his face as he admitted to this. He was her father, and no daughter ever wants to see her father's head bowed in guilt in front of her.

"Go on, Papa," she said in a steady voice, her eyes still closed, "I am listening."

"When Darcy said that it was imperative that you and his brother marry," he said in a calmer tone of voice now, perhaps Elizabeth's closed eyes had given him courage, "I knew that he was right, and with your mother present there, the only option as well."

"You still have not told me why you made me go through with **this,"** she suddenly opened her eyes, piercing in their intensity, quite like her husband's, **"that **is what I want to know."

"Yes," he looked away again, "I am coming to that. Frankly speaking, it never occurred to me that you could have been drugged until you mentioned it, but then again it seemed quite impossible, for why would he go to so much trouble if he did not really want to marry you and knew that this was the only option left to him? So as the night whiled away, my mind went around the whole thing repeatedly, coming to the conclusion that George Darcy shall not let go of his claim on you, even if it meant ruining your reputation in order to make you his. God knows how many people saw you two enter the library mere seconds or minutes apart."

"But he did have a reason," Elizabeth sat up, "he did…"

"I know that now," Mr. Bennet held up his hand to silence her, "Jane told me everything after you and your mother left for London."

"Why would you not listen to **me** when **I** tried to tell you everything?" She was getting steadily angry now.

"I believed you," he said earnestly looking into her eyes, "but I could not show it."

"Why?" She cried in exasperation.

"Because your reputation was lost already," he said in a louder voice as well, "siding with you was only going to encourage you to do something silly like running away, or indulge in some other recklessness." Elizabeth stared at him openmouthed as he continued, "my displeasure was only a façade to convince you to marry George Darcy."

"Oh Lord, this does not make any sense," she gripped her head and stood up.

"Lizzy, your reputation was gone," he said calmly now, "the only option left for you was to marry George Darcy, and the only option left for me to ensure that was through showing my displeasure; because of I had shown even a moment of weakness, you would never have agreed to it."

"And what if I had not?" Elizabeth knew the truth of his words but still failed to understand why it was so important for him that she married a scoundrel.

"I had four other daughters to think of as well," his shoulders slumped and Elizabeth halted her frantic pacing in front of him.

"You…you," she spluttered, "you made me accept the addresses of a rake because you were thinking of my sisters? What about me, how come you never spared a thought for me?"

"My first thought was for you," he stood up and took a step towards her, "tell me honestly Lizzy, would you have agreed to marry him if you knew that I believed you?"

Elizabeth stood there adamantly refusing to look towards her father. It was true that she had planned on and thought of running away a few times during her engagement, but had never attempted it because she was already burdened with the displeasure and mistrust of Mr. Bennet. Perhaps he was right, perhaps she might have stubbornly refused to agree to marry George even to save her own or her sisters' reputation, but perhaps she would have agreed. His confession changed nothing, for he had mistrusted her all the same, though for a different reason.

"I know your impetuous and stubborn nature Lizzy," he began again after she did not answer, "and I also knew that containing the news of what had happened in the Netherfield library was not possible. If your mother had not told someone, George Darcy definitely would have."

"Mama would not have," she looked accusingly at him, "she trusts me, unlike you."

"Yes," he smiled a half smile, "she really does. But though she trusts you, and I commend her for coming to your defense, I do not trust her tongue. Sooner or later, she was bound to slip up and say something or another to someone and even if she had not, George Darcy would have. It was made abundantly clear to me that he was hell bent on having you for a wife, and his brother would support him fully."

"And yet he disappeared on our wedding day," Elizabeth mocked.

"Perhaps I overestimated his attachment to you, Lizzy," Mr. Bennet said in a sad voice, "but not the gravity of the situation. I am a father of five daughters, without a dowry tempting enough to draw in eligible suitors; I had a lot at stake dearest."

"So your reason for behaving the way you did is that you were afraid that I might have run away or simply refused to marry George," she said dully, her shoulders slumped, "thereby jeopardizing the future prospects of all my sisters."

He nodded and she continued in the same tone.

"You think that I care more about myself than my sisters?" She asked in discontent.

"No Lizzy," he stepped closer and placed his hand on her shoulder, "but you are rather apt to give in to impetuous impulses."

"Pray, when have I done that?" She huffed, her temper rising again.

He remained quiet as he looked at her meaningfully and suddenly realization dawned on her; she had given in to just such an impulse not many days ago. She had tried to get out of the engagement by throwing a tantrum in front of the Earl of Matlock, without any consideration to how a broken engagement would affect her family.

"How do you know?" She asked in a quiet voice.

"The Earl," he told her gently, "at the theatre."

"And that was precisely why you acted as though you thought I was in liaison with George?"

"I feared that you might do something…on these lines," he nodded, "if you were confident of my support. I had to strip you of it, to make you weak and have you submit to the demands of preserving the family's reputation."

"You have been rather cruel to me," she said dejectedly as Mr. Bennet folded his arms around her, "you cannot have any idea how your mistrust has weighed down upon me."

"And you cannot have any idea how it has weighed down upon me," he said sadly, his chin on her head, "the impeccability of your character is something I am proud of, but the impetuosity in it is something you need to learn to govern, dear one."

"Why did you not tell me about George's desertion?" She looked up at him but he stayed quiet, "same reason?" She asked and he nodded this time. Elizabeth stepped away from his embrace, feeling extreme dejection.

"I am afraid, I will not be able to let this go easily, Papa," he winced but she remained firm, "eventually perhaps, but not immediately."

"Lizzy, it was of the utmost importance…"

"You shall not be able to convince me of it just yet," she cut him short, "even though I believe that saving the reputation of all my sisters was necessary, I do not believe that it should have come about in a manner such as this. I do not mind sacrificing my happiness for them, for they are very important to me, but I do think that this was not the only option. Mama could have been convinced to remain silent and Mr. Darcy to keep his brother so. The situation was not as dire as you deemed it to be, nor so hopeless that you chose to make me the sacrificial lamb."

"You are young Lizzy," he said bleakly, "the world seems full of options to you now, but reach my age and perhaps you shall have a different view."

"I hope never to reach an age where the happiness of my child means but little to me as compared to what the world thinks," she responded coldly.

"So you are determined to avenge me for my behaviour towards you?" He asked in a quiet voice.

"I am only determined to hold on to whatever shred of sanity I am left with," her heart beat slowed down to a deathly pace, "but I do love you Papa, that much has not changed."

"Lizzy," he stepped towards her again and she caught his hand in hers, "I do not know how you spent these past weeks under the burden of my displeasure, but I do know that I shan't be able to do it for even a minute."

"I shall not remain angry for long," she tried to smile through the haze of tears, "and as soon as my resentment evaporates, I shall visit Longbourn." He nodded, desperate for any sign of affection from his beloved daughter. "Do take care of Lydia and Kitty Papa, they are thoughtless."

"I have been observing their behaviour with that Baron friend of George's," he said thoughtfully, "I just did not want to create any unnecessary distraction by forbidding them to go near him when I could see plainly that he was interested only in keeping an eye on his friend."

"What do you mean, Papa?" She felt confused, _'why would the baron keep an eye on George?_ '

"Nothing child," he smiled at her as they proceeded towards the door. "Darcy is a good man Lizzy, and to be honest he shall make you a much better husband than his brother. Do be kind to him," his eyes twinkled and he again felt like the teasing father she was used to.

"Good bye Papa," she said sadly as he clumsily patted her back while they stood with the rest of her family in the Darcy House's entrance. He had not trusted her enough to tell her of the desertion of George Darcy and that had been the last straw. Elizabeth had always found it difficult to depend upon people who did not trust her, regardless of what they meant to her or how the crack in her heart was slowly widening.

"My dear, Lizzy," Mrs. Bennet kissed her cheek fervently, "Mrs. Darcy." She was clearly ecstatic as she whispered in her ears, "I quite repent not enlightening you about the wedding night, my dear, if you will we can talk rather quickly in your room."

"Mama," Elizabeth went crimson as she stepped away from her mother and hastily stole a glance at her husband to see if he had heard anything, but she found him standing a little way off with her father and uncle.

"Oh well Lizzy," she twittered on towards the door, "you must write and tell me everything about your new house."

Elizabeth smiled affectionately at her and then turned to greet all her sisters before they went along with Charlotte and Aunt Gardiner.

"Would you be able to visit before you leave, Lizzy?" Mrs. Gardiner asked her.

"Leave?" Elizabeth said puzzled, "I have no idea Aunt."

"Oh well," she smiled as she kissed her on the cheek, "I dare say, Mr. Darcy shall discuss it with you soon enough."

Elizabeth stepped closer to her husband as she waved her hand at her departing family, her heart gradually dipping to the pit of her stomach as she watched Jane and Charlotte get into the carriage. Georgiana and Miss de Bourgh, had also left with the Earl and Lady Matlock and she was now all alone in this strange house with an even stranger husband.

"It is only two o' clock yet," Mr. Darcy said as the footman closed the doors behind them, "would you like to take some rest before dinner?"

Elizabeth suddenly felt apprehensive as she wondered if he was going to lure her to their bedroom on the pretext of resting and then…some of her fear must have shown on her face for she suddenly felt Mr. Darcy stiffen besides her.

"I only asked because I have some paperwork to take care of before we leave for Pemberly," he said coldly, "and I would not wish for you to feel abandoned on your first day of marriage."

"Yes," she blushed at the direction her thoughts had taken, "I should very much like to rest before supper."

"Then Mrs. White shall escort you to the rooms," he said in the same tone as the housekeeper miraculously appeared from somewhere. Mr. Darcy bowed and Elizabeth went with Mrs. White after nodding her head in his direction, her father's words and the surprise she had felt at hearing them, still fresh in her mind.

Once inside her room, her maid quickly divested her of clothes, to Elizabeth's embarrassment and helped her into a rather scandalous night gown. Elizabeth though apprehensive of wearing such a garment, complied nonetheless, being too tired to wait for a simpler one to be brought, and quickly slipped under the covers after informing Elsie of what time she wanted to be woken up.

As the maid left after drawing the curtains, Elizabeth examined her ring again and marveled at why a loving husband would give his wife such a revolting piece of jewelry as a token of his love. She took the ring off and squinted at the words inscribed on the inside in the almost dark room, _'Elizabeth F. Darcy.'_

**Chapter 17: The Wedding Night**


	17. Chapter 17

**Chapter 17: The Wedding Night**

Perhaps it was the sound of thunder that woke her up, or that of Elsie moving around in the dark room as she lit the lamps and candles. Elizabeth looked around from under the covers and gulped, the reality finally hitting her hard. She was married, not to the man she had been betrothed to, but to his brother and was now lying in a room that had a door connecting it to his.

She quickly sat up, feeling a deep unease about everything; the large bed, the soft pillows, the ever present maid and the flimsy night gown. She swung her feet off the bed and they landed on a soft rug where a delicate pair of slippers were laid out, their colour matching to that of her silk night gown. She slipped them on and stood up.

"I was about to wake you, ma'am," Elsie quickly turned towards her and curtseyed. Elizabeth nodded.

"I need to wash," she looked questioningly at Elsie who was watching her cautiously.

"This way, please," she directed her towards another door, which passed through a dressing room and led into a bathroom.

As Elsie poured water on her hands, Elizabeth's mind went towards her father. She splashed her face with the lukewarm water, it had been a relief that he had no doubts about her character, but that he had reservations with respect to her judgment was unexpected nonetheless. Mr. Bennet had always asserted that Elizabeth was the most sensible of all his daughters, then how could he disregard his previous opinion so easily? She splashed her face again and tried to ignore the dull ache in her heart. No matter what he had thought, everything boiled down to the fact that he had knowingly pushed her into a marriage of convenience, convenience for himself.

Elizabeth took the towel from the maid as she patted her face dry and walked back to the room.

"Are any of my evening gowns ready?" Elizabeth asked her, lazily looking around.

"All of them are, ma'am," she told her, "is there a specific one in your mind or would you like to take a look at them and decide?"

_'Decide?' _Elizabeth wanted to laugh at the maid's question, _'since when am I being consulted about any decision regarding my life?' _She had not wanted to marry George Darcy, but had ended up getting engaged to him, she had never wanted to see him again but had to, almost everyday, for four weeks. And in the end, her father decided who she would **actually** marry, without once even bothering to enlighten her, let alone ask.

"Bring the white embroidered gauze gown," Elizabeth directed her as she ran her fingers through her loosened hair, "and the shawl that I wore this morning."

She walked up to the curtains and moved them slightly, the rain was coming down in showers pelting hard on the glass windows. The gloom of the weather oppressed her feelings even further, she wondered if there ever had been an unhappier bride than her as she stepped towards Elsie who quickly and very deftly started to help her change into the creamy white gown. In just a few hours, Elizabeth felt that she had come a long way, or perhaps the journey had started the moment she had gotten into the carriage to London.

She hastily grabbed the slip from the maid and pulled it over her head, feeling embarrassed at someone other than Jane, or Brenda, their maid at Longbourn, seeing her without clothes. As Elsie started to tighten and fasten the stays of her corset, without paying much attention to the contours of her body, Elizabeth calmed down a little. Perhaps some day she would get used to the new maid, but would she ever get used to her husband?

She had hated George with a fierceness that sometimes took even herself by surprise. But she had still managed to convince herself that he would be her husband and that they should live in some kind of harmony, only to be sprung upon by someone who she simply could not accept as her life partner. She raised her arms and the gown slid through them as Elsie started to button it up. She could never have imagined that George would run out on her on their wedding day, but she was not surprised anymore either. George Darcy was not one to honour his word, and she had never really believed his allegedly eternal love for her, therefore she could well believe that all along, his only motive was to shame and humiliate her. But what of his family, of his own brother, how could he be so vindictive against Mr. Darcy, who seemed like a devoted if somewhat stern older brother?

She allowed Elsie to lead her towards the beautifully carved dressing table and sat down on the stool in front of it as she slowly started to brush out the tangles in Elizabeth's hair. She could feel the beginnings of a headache as the ivory brush slowly worked its way from the top of her hair to below her waist; she had rather long hair. It was no use trying to deduce what George's motives could have been, it was no use sparing a single thought for the fiend who held nothing and no one in esteem, to whom all that mattered was himself and his own selfish desires and their subsequent fulfillment.

"How would you like me to style your hair, ma'am?" Elsie's voice suddenly broke the chain of her thought.

"Something not too elaborate," Elizabeth pressed her fingers delicately to her temples, "and not too many pins, please."

She resolved not to think about him again, he was the darkest chapter of her past which was thankfully over and done with. Now another, perhaps even darker phase was about to begin, and despite Charlotte's advice she had no idea how she was going to act the part of Mrs. Darcy. All her interactions with Mr. Darcy, from the first moment up to this day, had been full of contradictions, one moment they were at each other's throats and in another they were laughing with or at each other.

Even this day they had fought like two angry cats, without really coming to blows, which was something to be thankful for. Both of them had provoked and confronted each other, without any thought to how it might affect their future relationship. It was a bit childish perhaps, she moved her hand delicately over the hairstyle Elsie's expert fingers had created, but it could not be helped either, new as the shock of their sudden nuptials was.

"You may leave," Elizabeth told the waiting girl when she was finished with her bed and got up as the door closed behind her.

She did not know how to behave around him. Elizabeth draped Lady Anne's beautiful, warm shawl on her arms, like Mr. Darcy had, and a small smile tugged at her lips. He had seemed kind, sweet even when he had tried different positions for the shawl, and afterwards about the drink. Perhaps it did not have to be as difficult as she was making it out to be.

She sighed and wondered if she should go downstairs herself or maybe she was supposed to wait for Mr. Darcy or Mrs. White. As if on cue, there was a firm knock on the door. _'Mr. Darcy,' _her heart throbbed in her chest as her eyes turned towards the connecting door between their rooms. She wondered uncomfortably why he would be knocking on that door, _'he would not try to,' _she gulped, _'to perform his marital duties before dinner, would he?'_

Elizabeth walked towards the adjoining door and opened it slowly; there was no one behind it. She closed it quickly and with a thud as her cheeks flamed at her silly thoughts. The knock came again and this time she knew that it was on the front door. She walked swiftly towards it and opened it to find her husband standing there.

"You thought I was knocking on the other door?" He asked in a slightly amused tone and Elizabeth blushed from head to toe once again. _'What sharp hearing he has," _she thought in embarrassed irritation.

"Why yes, Mr. Darcy." she gave him a sweet smile as she mocked, it would never do to show him how embarrassed she was, "you are quite the insightful husband."

"I am glad that you have learnt at least one adjective," he offered her his arm, his eyes glinting for some reason, "other than proud, conceited and arrogant."

"Touché," she mumbled and gripped his elbow firmly as they proceeded down the hallway.

Elizabeth unconsciously halted her step as they passed the now familiar portrait of the infamous Desiree, and took her hand out from the crook of his arm as she raised it to try and match the rings.

"They shall not match," Mr. Darcy said from behind her, making her turn slightly towards him, "this was painted before my great grandparents' marriage, and her husband gave it to her a few months after."

"Oh," Elizabeth turned after taking a last look at the sheer fabric of her gown, "I wondered why a loving husband would give his wife such a hideous thing on their marriage."

The words were out before she could stop them, Elizabeth turned sharply towards Mr. Darcy but his expressions remained impassive as he once again offered her his arm.

"He did love her," he said firmly, "rather too much, I should say."

"And why should you say that?" She asked curiously as they descended down the stairs, the sounds of their footsteps echoing in the empty house, "I would never think any amount of love to be too much."

"It is just that…," she could detect a certain hesitation in his tone, "well, it…made him selfish."

"Him?" She looked questioningly at him, "Mrs. Edmund Darcy gave me to believe that **she** was the egocentric one out of the two."

"No," he said firmly and led her through the huge dining parlour as a footman opened the door to let them pass, "it was him."

"How do you mean?" Elizabeth was all curiosity, and jumped to her next question as soon as they were seated. The story seemed interesting and Mr. Darcy willing to tell; anything was preferable to an argument in front of the servants.

"Exactly what I said," he shrugged lightly as they were served soup, "he was selfish and she was, mostly, blameless."

"Then how come the rest of your family thinks otherwise?" Elizabeth took the first spoonful of the delicious soup, her headache slowly evaporating.

"Because they do not know the truth," he emulated her actions as he eyed her warily, "you are not going to hound me with questions now, are you?"

"Of course not," she said innocently and then immediately attacked him with another one, "so you know the truth about Desiree and Mr. Darcy? How?"

He immediately looked uncomfortable and Elizabeth could not help tease him a little.

"Is it a deep, dark and ugly secret?" She asked impishly as she took another sip of the soup.

"It is deep and somewhat ugly," he said thoughtfully, "but not too dark."

"Tell me," she almost grabbed his hand but then quickly moved it away, reddening slightly as he hid his smile behind the soup spoon.

"I…err…well…I read his journal," he said in a slightly embarrassed tone.

Elizabeth's eyes widened, the ever proper Mr. Darcy of Pemberley, making such a breach in the privacy of an ancestor, why this was better than seeing George Darcy hang.

"I am disappointed in you, Mr. Darcy," she said in mock disapproval and chuckled lightly as his mortified expression. "How did you come about this journal," she went back to the story, "and why did no one ever read it before you?"

"It was George's doing," he said, looking slightly relieved, and suddenly a cloud settled over the table.

George Darcy was the elephant in the room that no one wanted to talk about but both of them were thinking of. Elizabeth tried to calm her nerves, _'this should not bother me, I shall not let this bother me,' _she thought with determination. She looked up and found him looking distressed. Elizabeth gave him a small smile and immediately his face cleared. "We found it one day, a very long time ago," he continued again, "I was only fifteen then, which is my excuse for acting against the principles taught me by my parents. Well, we found it in a wooden box, locked, and so we broke it and read it through," here he stopped and allowed the footman to clear their plates, "or at least I did, my brother lost interest after a while."

"And," Elizabeth questioned as she was served the next course, "what was in it, what had he described?"

"I am sorry," he munched on his bite, "but I am definitely not going to reveal it to you," he said with dignity.

"Where is the journal now?" She asked quickly.

"At Pemberley," he looked at her rather puzzled.

"So when do we leave for Pemberley?" She could not wait to lay her hands on the journal.

"Err…in about two days," he frowned at her now, but Elizabeth was not really paying attention.

"Oh, I cannot wait," she said ecstatically, forgetting where she was, with whom, and under what circumstances.

"You shall not get your hands on the journal," he said slightly sternly as he looked at her in amusement.

"Of course not," she sipped her water, "I would never dream of such a thing."

"Of course you shall dream of it," he teased and she grinned, it was as though there had been no fight, no tension, no wedding between them.

"You should never have told me of it, Mr. Darcy," she dabbed the napkin delicately on her lips as the plates were cleared once again, "and I shan't dream about it because now I shall not be able to sleep until I know. I simply do not have the stomach for suspense."

"I am sorry to hear that," he drawled as he dug into his Crème brûlée, "I hope that sleeplessness is not going to make you argue with me any more than you already do."

Elizabeth's eyes widened as did Mr. Darcy's, it was clear that he had not meant to be so blatant in teasing her. She broke into a smile immediately and he tried not to look too relieved. Elizabeth never minded being teased, in fact she loved it, but their relationship was too new for him to know that, and therefore he was naturally apprehensive of offending her any more than he already had.

She could hardly believe how much she had eaten, for she definitely had no appetite as she had stepped out of her room on his arm. She pushed the plate away as she eyed him sipping the remnants of his wine, in awe of how easy it had been to talk to him. He looked much more relaxed now than he had all morning, his face soft, his expression gentle and his eyes not as steely as they usually were. It was too soon to completely forget their strange history, but that she had forgotten it for almost an hour amazed her to no end. And so she accompanied him to a small parlour, still wondering how he had managed to smooth things over so quickly.

"I did not think that you should be too pleased with my plan to move to Pemberley so soon after the marriage," he began cautiously as he seated her on a cream couch and went a little way off to sit in a large chair.

"It does not matter much to me," she shrugged, indeed she had nothing and no one, besides the Gardiners, at London that could hold her attention. It was better that they left for the seclusion of his home, "my family shall leave early tomorrow morning and I have already bored the Gardiners to death with my constant presence in their lives."

"I am sure they have never considered the matter as such," he said thoughtfully as the maid went away after serving them tea, "they seem to have a great affection for you."

"Oh yes," she smiled at the thought of her aunt and uncle, feeling slowly, but steadily more and more comfortable, "they have always been exceptionally hospitable towards me and Jane."

"Your Uncle is a very sensible gentleman as well," Mr. Darcy sipped his tea slowly, "I often found myself wondering in the days past, how things might have been if it had been him instead of your father, perhaps this whole situation could have been avoided."

"This whole situation could have been avoided," Elizabeth slammed her cup on the table with a thud, it was a miracle that it did not break immediately. She fumed as all the false sense of security and serenity came tumbling down around her. She knew that her father's role had been more than questionable through out the whole muddle created by George Darcy, and she of all people was the one who suffered the most, but that did not give Mr. Darcy the right to question him, that too in front of her, "if you had had the sense, not to impose marriage upon me and your brother," she said in a loud, fervent tone.

Mr. Darcy seemed taken aback at her sudden change of mood and tone, but then his eyes narrowed and Elizabeth knew that all the pleasant conversation through out dinner was coming to a speedy and unpleasant conclusion.

"This whole situation could have been avoided," he also placed his cup back on the table, though not with as much spirit as Elizabeth, "if you had not had the audacity to rendezvous with my brother in the seclusion of a library."

His words were like a whip to Elizabeth's wounded mind, she felt it swell and then bleed as the accusation that his words held slowly penetrated her senses. She was aware of course that he did not hold her completely blameless in case of the whole 'Netherfield library' incident, but that he held her equally responsible was something of a shock to Elizabeth; a shock coupled with a deep sense of shame and insult.

She trembled as she tried to blink back tears of mortification, it was as though she was standing in her father's study all over again and Mr. Bennet was giving his verdict on her loose morals and wanton conduct.

"This whole situation could have been avoided," she stood up hastily as her voice shook with suppressed anger and tears, "if you had the civility to hold off your unjust allegations, for only a few more days, if you were not so insensitive to my pain," she pointed her finger at her eyes angrily, "and if you used your eyes for observation and not just glaring."

Mr. Darcy jumped to his feet, his face twisted in anger.

"And this whole situation could have been avoided if you had not," he stepped towards her in a fit of rage, "misunderstood my meaning completely and utterly."

"Misunderstand your meaning?" She looked at him in disbelief, "I am the one who misunderstood your meaning, or you are the one who is constantly harbouring a misconstruction of my character?"

"Not without due reason," Mr. Darcy further advanced towards her as he said through clenched teeth.

"Your reasons are just as erroneous as your opinions," she felt his distinctive smell enter her nostrils as he covered every bit of distance between them, it was becoming increasingly difficult to keep herself calm, "you are wrong Mr. Darcy," she cried as she darted away from him, "you are wrong."

She quickly exited the parlour and ran towards the stairs taking them two at a time as her long held tears at last spilled on her cheeks and slipped down her face. How things had gone from almost blissful to absolutely dreadful, she had no idea. _'With due reason-with due reason-with due reason,' _was the phrase that took command of her brain while she looked ahead in bewilderment, not knowing which way to go as she stood at the head of the stairs.

"Do not," a cold voice rasped in her ears as a warm hand grasped her arm, she held her breath, "ever try to create a scene in **my **house again. Ever."

She tried to wrench it away from his grip but Mr. Darcy pulled her to the left with him, without looking at her. She quickly wiped her face with the back of her hand, not wanting him to witness her moment of weakness. Suddenly, she was before the door of her room, in **his **house.

"I shall come to your room in a while," he told her frostily, his back turned to her as he left her arm and stepped towards his own door.

Elizabeth felt her courage fleeing her completely. Mr. Darcy who hated her, who despised her, who thought her a low born wanton, surely he did not want to consummate their marriage. She stared at his back in horror, this was insupportable, she would never consent to it, **never.**

"I do not think," she gulped and then spoke up, she would not let him intimidate her, "that it is necessa…"

Like the flash of lightening, he turned around and was upon her, making her start with the suddenness of his movement. His outrage on the whole interlude was written plainly on his face, which had hardened into a cruel expression.

"Half an hour," he rasped near her face.

Elizabeth blinked at him with burning eyes under long lashes that were still wet from her tears and unexpectedly, his face transformed. Something like regret showed on its hard planes as the steel in his eyes slowly began to dissolve. He raised his hand towards her and Elizabeth shut her eyes tightly as she winced in anticipated pain, almost expecting him to hit her. When nothing happened for a few moments, she slowly opened her eyes and found him staring at her in shock mingled with bewilderment.

"I would never…," he said in a low disbelieving tone as he stumbled backwards in the direction of his room, "never," he whispered and then almost ran the one step left to his door, which slammed shut in a moment, jerking Elizabeth out of her stupor.

She turned the handle to her door with shaking fingers and entered into the well lit room on unsteady legs, her mind still unable to fathom what had happened outside her room. She wanted to drop down on her bed and cry until she had no tears left, scream until she had no voice left and ram her fists into the wall until she either lost her hand, or managed to break the wall. But she could do none of that as Elsie materialized in her vision, holding another scandalous night gown.

Elizabeth wanted to tell her to burn the offending garment and to get out of the room and leave her alone, but instead she allowed her to remove her shawl, her gown and her corset till she was down to only her slip. She even nodded as the maid asked her if orange blossoms was the smell she used and then allowed her to apply it behind her ears, inside her wrists and her thighs. She had no strength as Elsie slipped the sleeveless dove grey silk gown over her head and pulled it down, no will as she brushed her hair out and left it hanging behind her back, she felt broken when she held the matching robe out for her to slip into and torn as she tied the belt around her slim waist to hold it in place.

Elizabeth stood in the middle of the room after the maid left and stared at her reflection in the mirror. What had gone wrong? Her life, pretty much like the evening was going smoothly, with a bit of mischief and a dash of laughter here and there to keep it interesting, and then all of a sudden the bubble of peace and tranquility that she was living in got burst. Her eyes that often looked like embers, now looked like dull, insipid coals, burned out, her glowing skin pale, her general air morbid. She was not Elizabeth Bennet anymore, she was Elizabeth Darcy, who was about to succumb to her husband's desire to consummate the marriage born out of hate and deceit and revenge.

**Knock-Knock-Knock**

She turned towards the door and thought _'has half an hour already passed?'_ She slowly walked up to the door as she wondered, _'will he force himself upon me?' _No, she could never believe this of Mr. Darcy, he had just said that he would never hurt her physically, or at least he had meant to say this, but did not finish. He would not hurt her, she was sure, and even if he tried, she would not let him, she was adamant.

She took a deep breath and turned the handle, pulling the door towards her. There he stood, in his night gown, staring down at her with an unreadable expression and darkened eyes. Elizabeth gulped and stepped away to let him enter without her will, he had entered her life without her permission and dominated it completely after all, so what was a room? He stepped in and pushed the door shut without looking at it. Elizabeth looked up and they stared at each other as they stood inches apart, the time had come.

* * *

There was something in her eyes, something exquisitely painful and yet deeply enchanting as Darcy pushed the door shut behind him. She was looking at him in apprehension but her eyes showed a determination not to be cowered. He had not wanted to alarm Elizabeth, only to reassure her that this would not be the case, but when it came to his wife, he seemed to have no control over anything, be it a situation or himself.

After the dreadful fight in the morning, things had seemed to become peaceful between them during the wedding breakfast. She had slowly seemed to relax and had mingled amiably with the guests. He had seen her laugh with her friend, flirt with Barrington and then put him into his place. She had also lied for Darcy, which had had quite an affect on him, especially when she had admitted to it afterwards.

Darcy had gone down to dinner entertaining hopes of a tranquil if not wholly comfortable evening, but it had turned out to be much more than what he had expected it to be. Elizabeth had been in a pleasant mood, asking him questions, teasing and laughing, Darcy had felt his appetite return to him at last. But that was until tea was served. He could not understand why a harmless remark would send her flying into a fit of temper like that.

All he had meant to say was that if Mr. Gardiner was her father, perhaps he would have taken better care of his daughters and the incident with George could have been avoided completely, but Elizabeth had taken it in a completely different light and once again they had found themselves hurling accusations at each other. Darcy gulped as Elizabeth slowly moved towards the dressing table, he had said something about her being in the library with George, which though true, would probably have better left unsaid. He was sorry for it, but for her to think that he would try to strike her, it was absolutely unthinkable.

"Would you not sit down, Mr. Darcy," she asked him tentatively, "I only have to braid my hair."

He nodded and took the few steps to the love seat and sat heavily on it. He had felt an unexpected remorse at the sight of her moist lashes, a testimony to her hurt at his words and had raised his hand only to comfort her, but she, as usual, had misconstrued it to be Darcy trying to hit her. It was painful to know that someone thought so lowly of you and in a mistaken light as well. His own pain had made him realize hers.

He watched as she deftly weaved her locks together and fastened them with a ribbon at the end, throwing the thick braid back through her shoulder and could almost feel her fragrant hair slide on his hands as they had on the Gardiner's stairs only this morning. She turned towards him without getting up and there were a thousand questions in her eyes. Darcy quickly got up from his perch and she followed suit, backing away towards the wall.

"There are several things that we need to discuss," he began and took one step towards her, just as she backed up by one step, "several misunderstandings that need to be cleared," he advanced further and she stepped back further, "and though we have a whole lifetime to do all that," she was now pressed to the wall, a scared expression on her face, her eyes darting all over the room, looking for a way to escape, "there is one thing that ought to be got out of the way tonight."

Darcy could see her pressing herself further into the wall, and even though it irritated him to see her thus shying away from him, it was ironically amusing as well. Suddenly he wanted to flummox her completely before putting her at ease. She had turned his life into a series of uncomfortable events, one following another, it was his right to reciprocate with some kind of retaliation.

"You **must** know," his voice dropped a notch and took on a husky note as he stepped closer, "why I am here," her eyes became as wide as saucers as she clenched and unclenched her hands.

"N-no," she shook her head vehemently, a loose lock running down the side of her face, "h-how would I know," she was obviously trying to sound nonchalant, "but I do not care to know either."

"Oh but you must," he was upon her now as they stood toe to toe, "I insist." His voice turned into a caress as Elizabeth's eyes, unbelievably, widened further.

"Please do not insist, Mr. Darcy," she said in a low tone, _'oh this is too much fun,' _Darcy thought in utter amusement, "one must **never **insist."

He almost laughed out loud then, _'one must never insist?' _This was a new theory, no doubt invented by his wife just now.

"But I do," he placed his hand beside her face on the wall his own face mere inches away from her, "it is my right as your husband." His voice had become even huskier without realizing as his eyes drank in her features, _'Lord, she is captivating,' _he thought staring at her.

"And it is my right to decline," she said in barely a whisper, "as your wife."

"To decline what?" He breathed on her face, telling himself that he was only having a bit of fun at her expense, but fearing that it had all become very real in the past few moments.

"Please don't kiss me," she suddenly covered her face with her hands as she said vehemently.

Darcy hastily took a step back as he stared at her in a daze, her beautiful form draped in silk was calling out to every male instinct in him, he could not decide if her hands were more beautiful or the face that they covered beneath them, the face that had often emerged behind his eyelids as he had fought with the strange emotion she always stirred in him.

He could not allow this to go on any longer, Darcy had had enough fun and it was time now to get back to the reality and the reality was that there was an ocean between them, which separated them from each other, which they could never cross. They could hardly remain civil towards each other for an hour, even if **something** did happen between them, it could never last. The cloud of George and her secret relationship with him would always hang upon his head, darkening everything, forcing it to lose colour.

He gently took hold of her hand and pulled it off her face, planting the small metal key that he had come to deliver in it. As soon as the cold metal touched her hand, her eyes flew open.

"W-what is this?" She asked him in bewilderment.

"The key to the connecting door," he said firmly, trying not to stare as relief washed over her features, "now do you want to decline it?" His tone became somewhat teasing as her fingers wrapped around the key and she shook her head..

"Elizabeth," he called her by her name for the first time and saw her start, "I would **never," **he stressed on the word never and then repeated it, **"never, **try to take advantage of you only because you are my wife now. We are both civilized human beings, not animals without feelings," she kept staring at him, "the situation that we now find ourselves in is unfortunate, but it is not irremediable," he stopped and took a deep breath, "I would like us to start afresh…"

He did not finish his sentence when he saw her close her eyes in relief as tears slipped down her cheeks. She opened her eyes but did not look at him as she bit her lips to stop herself from crying. Anything that he had felt on the lines of attraction towards her dissolved quickly and slowly but surely, he took her in his arms. _'She is nineteen for God's sake, a child really,' _he chided himself at scaring her deliberately before as he placed his arm on her shoulder and guided her towards the love seat.

As they sat side by side, she placed her head on his shoulder once again while continuing to cry in a hushed tone. Darcy stared ahead, his hands folded in his lap as he felt her tears seep through his night gown and shirt to moisten his shoulder.

"Hush," he raised his hand and patted her head awkwardly, "do not cry." He took out his handkerchief from his pocket and held it out to her.

Elizabeth sat up as she took it from his hand.

"D-do y-you," she said still sobbing, "car-ry a hand-ker-chief even in y-your night-gown?" She asked haltingly and he turned his neck to look at her as she rubbed her nose mercilessly on the handkerchief, for the first time, looking like the young girl that she really was.

Darcy still remembered the surprise he had felt when Mr. Gardiner had told him that she was nineteen years old. Elizabeth had always seemed so confident in herself, and mature in her opinions coupled with her manner of carrying herself that he had automatically assumed her to be at least three and twenty years old, if not more. Now, as he looked at her while she struggled to stop crying, she seemed barely older than Georgiana.

"My valet puts it there," he told her as she slowly began to calm down, "you cry like Georgiana," he suddenly blurted out.

"You think of me as Georgiana?" Her eyes became wide once again as her tears stopped completely.

"No," he said firmly, _'I can never think of you as my sister,' _he thought, but nor did she seem like a wife or even the alluring woman that he had come to think of her as. She simply seemed like a child, lost, hurt and scared.

"I thank you for your assurance Mr. Darcy," she folded his handkerchief but did not return it to him, "and your concern as well."

"I had not meant to scare you," he admitted somewhat sheepishly, "but it was too tempting an oppourtunity to let go easily."

"Oh you really did scare me to death," she looked accusingly at him but her air was tranquil now, he could even see her eyes begin to light up again, "I thought…" She trailed off and Darcy knew well what she might have thought. Suddenly her eyes narrowed at him, "you were doing it only to infuriate me?"

"Well," he shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly, "can you blame me?" he eyed her warily as her eyebrows raised, "you looked so ridiculous pressed against the wall, trembling in fear," his eyes twinkled, "that I had to take some solace in it for at last being successful in making you quake."

"I did not quake," she said petulantly, but Darcy could see the beginnings of a smile on her lips and breathed a sigh of relief, anything was better than a crying lady on his hands, "well," she rested her head at the back of the love seat, "perhaps a little."

Darcy turned his neck towards her just as she turned hers towards him, and raised a sardonic eyebrow and she blushed, but did not avert her eyes.

"Can you blame me?" She mimicked his words, "you are taller than a mountain, anyone would be scared of you at such close quarters." Her eyes had come alive at last and were full of mirth at his expense. He stared, how quickly had the situation turned around once again, it was unfathomable, yet this was perhaps the second time in one day that they had managed to laugh after a heated discussion.

"You are not so short yourself, madam," he said dryly, "I would have thought that you, of all the people, would be able to hold your own against me."

"I just…," she began and then faltered as she turned her head to the front and closed her eyes, "I feel drained…and lost…and utterly alone."

"You **are** all that," he said candidly as her eyes opened quickly and she looked questioningly at him, "do not get me wrong, but you are alone Elizabeth, as am I. This is not a marriage born out of love, ours is a union brought about by the sheer necessity of saving our families from disrepute and ourselves from disgrace. We are not two lovers united in a cherished bond, relishing the fact of its endlessness, we are two very dissimilar people, with no partiality for one another and no inclination to stay joined for an eternity," he saw understanding and agreement in her expression and decided to go on, it was better to reach an understanding through open honesty than to hate each other in privacy, "therefore we will always be alone in this relationship, always a little weary and always a little lost."

"Is every conversation always going to turn into an argument?" She looked at him with apprehension, "it would be a miserable existence, if so."

"For a while perhaps," he said thoughtfully as he watched a tear drop still hanging to her lashes.

"I do not know what has happened to me," she sat up and said fervently, "this…this constant inflammability is completely unlike me," Elizabeth wrung her hands in agitation. "I want to quarrel with everyone, to shout and hurl things around, to…to set everything on fire." She stopped and looked at him for solace, "are you feeling any such turbulent emotions, Mr. Darcy, or are you as calm as ever?"

"All of it," he admitted dryly, "except perhaps setting fire to everything. This is a very expensive house I assure you." He mocked and she smiled a teary smile and Darcy thought he had never seen anything so heartbreaking.

"Why did this happen to me?" She said absently, toying with his handkerchief.

"You mean the marriage to me?" He asked irritably. He was trying to smooth things over, but then she had to bring up how unpleasant being married to him was to her.

"No," she shook her head, "everything…from the beginning. I wish I had never gone to the Netherfield ball."

"Do you not wish," he looked piercingly at her, "that my brother had not ran away?"

"That," she said evenly, "is perhaps the only aspect of the whole business, that I do not mind."

Darcy's eyes widened. _'What the devil could she mean?' _he thought in astonishment.

"Surely you jest," he said sardonically and she looked at him in confusion, which in turn confused him. "You cannot mean that you do not mind being married to **me?"** He asked in bewilderment.

"Well, not as much as I would have minded being married to him," her manner was so decidedly firm that Darcy did not dare doubt her words, but they were so unexpected, to be sure. "Arrogance is always preferable to debauchery, do you not think?"

"And silence to goading," he bit back at her unexpected barb as he glared at her.

"And looking softly to glaring intensely," she bit her lip again, but Darcy suspected that this time it was to hide a smile, not stop tears.

"And talking amiably to teasing mercilessly," he narrowed his eyes at her increasingly brightening ones.

"I beg to differ," she sat back and eyed him with amusement.

"Do you not always?" He returned equably.

"With you?" She said pleasantly, "yes. I cannot help it, you call out to be teased." She fell silent then and looked at her hands contemplatively, "how long do you think we shall duel?"

"Perhaps the arguments will diminish with the passage of time," he said doubtfully, "and the smiles would increase, but, in any case, I should warn you that I do not smile much." She smiled and turned her head to the front.

"I know," she said closing her eyes once again, her head dropping back, "but you are good at consoling, when you bother to, and right now I need that more than your smiles."

Darcy did smile then, though she did not see it, for her eyes were closed. He turned his head, not wanting to see her at her most vulnerable and stared ahead at the flickering candles. What a bizarre day it had been, and an even more fantastic night. He was also drained and lost like Elizabeth, but perhaps not so alone. He took a deep breath and crossed his legs as they laid spread in front of him as he closed his eyes, perhaps after a while both of them would not be alone anymore.

* * *

He woke up wrapped in something soft and warm with the smell of orange blossoms all around him. Darcy slowly opened his eyes and found himself half lying, half sitting on the loveseat in his wife's room, his mother's shawl wrapped around him. He sat up and looked around the room, Elizabeth was nowhere. Suddenly someone moved next to him, it was **her, **with legs curled underneath her and arms wrapped around herself. He gawked at her oddly, they had spent the night together.

He pulled the shawl off him and got up quickly without taking his eyes away from her, she was beautiful even in sleep, beautiful and cold. He briefly touched her forehead and it felt icy. Darcy went to her bed and turned down the sheets and came back and picked her up with care, not wanting to wake her. She was surprisingly light of weight for so tall a woman and fit perfectly in his arms. For a moment he just gazed down at her lithe form as she stirred a little and then got comfortable in his arms, something deep and inexplicable stirred within him.

His eyes remained glued to her face, searching it for he did not know what, as he slowly walked up to her bed and was about to put her down when the dressing room door opened and a maid entered noiselessly. Darcy froze just like the maid as she stared at him in shock and then her face reddened as she witnessed who he was carrying in his arms. Darcy gently deposited Elizabeth on the bed, where she settled contentedly after turning on the other side, and covered her up with the throw.

"Do not disturb the mistress; let her sleep as long as she wants to," He turned towards the maid and said in a low but authoritative voice.

The poor girl, apparently scared out of her wits, nodded vehemently and darted out the room. Darcy rolled his eyes and went back to his own chambers as Elizabeth's voice mocked him,

_'You are taller than a mountain; anyone would be scared of you.' _Well apparently anyone included his maids as well. He was in the middle of removing his gown when his valet entered after a knock and stood a little way off, looking at him guardedly.

"I hope you have figured out what to do about the sheets, Smyth," he said turning away from him in embarrassment and also to hide his blush.

"Yes Mr. Darcy," he only uttered as many words as were necessary, and Darcy trusted him fully. That was why he had assigned him to deal with the problem of the clean sheets in his room. The maids might be scared of him, but no amount of fear was going to make them stop gossiping about the master's wedding night.

"The bath is ready, Mr. Darcy," Smyth informed him and Darcy nodded. The second day of his marriage had begun.

* * *

Darcy slowly combed through his wet hair trying not to think of the woman, probably asleep, next door, after all no amount of thinking was going to help him understand her. He placed the hairbrush back on his dresser as he checked the knot of his cravat, it was difficult to stop his mind from wandering off to his wedding day and consequently his new bride. He felt a slight blush creep up his face at the thought of sleeping on the loveseat in her room, he must have been quite tired to have succumbed to oblivion without realizing when.

But after clearing the air somewhat, he had suddenly felt at peace and had drifted off quickly. He did vaguely remember someone covering him up with something, apparently the red shawl, but the touch had been soft enough, not to wake him up. He wondered when she drifted off to sleep and why had she not chosen the comfort of her own bed?

It had taken him longer than usual to get through his bath, for soaking in it had always been his favourite method of thinking things through. Darcy took a last look at himself in the mirror and stepped out the door, his eyes mechanically rising towards the door to Elizabeth's room and his mind jumping towards the two conversations they had had by it. The first one had been bad enough but the second was too hurting to bear thinking about. He shook his head to ward off any painful effects lingering from the previous day, he had, after all, offered her to start afresh, not that she had heard any of it considering the way she had started to cry the moment he had begun his peace offering speech.

He lazily walked down the hallway, she really had been rather upset. _'Could it be that she lied to save face and actually she did miss George?'_ His heart constricted painfully at this thought, but he tried not to dwell on why it was so. Once again the fact that George would be ever present between them, and that his mere thought would never let him and Elizabeth get any closer asserted it upon himself…and yet…they had spent the night together.

"I saw it with my own eyes," a female voice whispered ahead just as he was about to turn the corner, "the master was carrying her as though she was made of china."

He frowned; were the maids gossiping already.

"He had not been so gentle in the night," another voice said giggling, "the mistress could barely walk this morning, she was so sore from what they did in the night."

He had been embarrassed many times before in his life, but never this strongly. His whole body seemed to flush as all blood ran to his face. He had half a mind to reprimand the chattering maids there and then when the next statement completely flummoxed him.

"And Mrs. Kips says that the Master's sheets alone are proof of what a wild night they must have had."

_'Oh God,' _he groaned inwardly, _'what has Smyth done with my sheets?'_

"Well I always thought he would be terribly passionate," the voices seemed to drift away slowly, "for all his coldness."

"Who would not be," they drifted further away, "with such an alluring and willing wife, she did not even once complain when I rubbed some of the essence on her thighs and…."

Darcy was crimson by the time the maids moved away, breathing deeply, the mere thought of Elizabeth allowing her maid to prepare her for **the night, **unsettling him completely.

"Mr. Darcy," she called him from behind and he jumped as he turned around towards her, "have I startled you?" Elizabeth asked with laughing eyes as Darcy took out his handkerchief and soaked the small beads of perspiration that had appeared on his forehead.

"No," he said in a strangled voice, hoping that his colour had reduced by now, "I was just thinking about something."

"Something unpleasant?" She arched an eyebrow at him, "oh I know," her voice became teasing, "you must be thinking of me."

"No," he said louder than he had wanted to and then looked sheepishly at her, _'well at least not willingly,' _he thought, "nothing of import." He motioned for her to proceed down the hallway, "have you thought of how you would like to spend the day."

"I was hoping to pay my aunt a visit," she suggested as they walked side by side; Darcy had not offered her his arm, after what the maids had said, he did not want to risk walking the hall with their arms interlaced, for the maids would definitely interpret it as Darcy trying to unnecessarily touch his wife. "And we can go visit your Uncle later and bring Georgiana and Miss de Bourg home with us."

"It is a good idea," he agreed quickly as they descended the stairs, resolved not to have any argument that day, "but I shall have to excuse myself from visiting Gracechurch Street this morning, for I shall be busy with something and would only manage to call upon your uncle in the evening."

Darcy had to get the new settlement papers drawn and signed that day since the older ones were now null and void, and he had agreed to meet Mr. Gardiner that evening to finalize the paperwork before he went to Pemberley the next day.

"What could be so important, Mr. Darcy," she tilted her head up at him, "could you not spare an hour for me?" She was clearly teasing him, but after listening to the maids' description of their supposed **wild **wedding night, even the image of her looking up at him with a tilted head was apparently too much for his composure.

"The settlement papers," he said quickly, wanting to change the topic as they turned towards the dining room, "they have to be redone, today."

"You do not have to settle anything upon me, Mr. Darcy," she stiffened immediately as the footman held the door open for them, "it is wholly unnecessary."

"On the contrary," he said patiently moving towards the table, "not only is it absolutely necessary, it is also mandatory by religion and law."

"I shall not receive anything from you, Mr. Darcy." she said as she dropped down on the chair, "so take my advice and save yourself the trouble of going through so much paperwork for naught."

Her face had become hard, her voice inflexible, Darcy sat down at the head of the table, bracing himself for another round of arguments that would certainly lead to a full blown fight involving a few accusations and a lot of angry words. But he hoped as he prepared to give an answer to her adamant stance against the marriage settlement, that in the end, they would smile as well.

**Chapter 18: To Pemberley**


	18. Chapter 18

**Chapter 18: To Pemberley**

**Day One on the Road**

Elizabeth sighed as she looked outside the window of the fast moving carriage. They had passed Hertfordshire without stopping en route to her new home, Pemberley. Forgetting her father had not been as easy as severing all ties with him had been, it takes a mere moment to expel a person from your life but even a century is not be enough to banish them from your hear and mind. She looked away from the passing scenery towards her traveling companion, Mr. Darcy was studiously occupied with his book about some complicated procedure used to enhance the crop.

"Mr. Darcy," she called him.

It felt as though he was deliberately punishing her for arguing with him at the breakfast table on the second day of their wedding. And though she had realized that she was being rather silly and stubborn and had turned the topic after relenting to his demands regarding the settlement, he had remained steadfastly quiet afterwards, at her uncle's house and his uncle's as well.

"Hm?" Was all the response she got as his frown deepened, showing her that he wanted to concentrate on his book and not on her. He had seemed in a better mood by the evening, which proved to be of a shorter duration, for as soon as she had suggested that Georgiana and Miss de Bourgh should travel with them on the same day instead of coming to Pemberley after a week, his scowl had reappeared. He was strange, this Mr. Darcy.

"The weather seems fine," she commented, hoping that he would stop reading and start talking. Elizabeth did not understand why Georgiana and Miss de Bourgh were traveling in another carriage when there was ample place in this one, indeed she had never seen such a grand carriage, nor so comfortable, their presence would have saved her from the boredom that Mr. Darcy was currently subjecting her to. She wished she could read in a moving vehicle, but that always made her nauseous, and she was sure she did not want to vomit all over his magnificent carriage.

"No, indeed," he said absently as he turned a page, his eyes still glued to his book.

Elizabeth felt surprised at his answer, since it was neither here nor there. She looked carefully at him and suddenly a smile broke on her face, he was not exactly listening to her. Elizabeth decided to have fun on his expense just like he had on her, on their wedding night. She coloured slightly at the thought of that night, hardly believing that they had spent it together. That night had been material in opening her eyes to his personality a bit and what she saw was not repulsive at all, far from it. He was kind, if not provoked and mischievous when sufficiently provoked. But most importantly, even though he did not love her, perhaps disliked her even, he was still considerate towards her general well being and that was something she was thankful for.

"Cowper has really outdone himself in this book," she commented in a teasing tone, which fell on ears that were unable to discern it.

"Of course," he replied dryly.

"I have always wondered what method he would use to sheer his crop," she continued, waiting to see when he would snap out of his concentration.

"Oh, it is all here…," Mr. Darcy began enthusiastically as he looked up at her, but then suddenly fell silent as he understood the mischievous look on her face.

"You were saying?" She batted her lashes and he closed his book as his lips twitched.

"Point taken," he conceded and placed the large tome besides him, "why do you not take up a book as well. I have brought enough of them and I think you would find something to interest you."

"Unfortunately, I cannot read in a carriage," she smiled sheepishly, " somehow it makes me queasy."

"I am afraid I am not very good company," he shrugged his shoulders, "you can stay quiet on your own or with me, but silence shall reign whenever I am around."

"Do not underestimate yourself, Mr. Darcy," she smiled impishly at him and his eyes narrowed somewhat.

"You are right," he mocked, "that is your forte."

"Mr. Darcy," her tone was reprimanding, "do you really want to start an argument, again?"

"God forbid," he said sardonically, "that I try to steal your prerogative."

She looked carefully at him to see if he was being serious or merely jesting, for if it was the latter, she would smile and it will be the end of it but if it was the former than she would make him repent ever starting it.

"You do know that I never back out of an argument," she raised an eyebrow at him and saw a flicker in his eyes, perhaps that of amusement, "do you not Mr. Darcy? Please do not goad me."

"God forbid," he repeated his earlier words as he folded his arms on his chest, "if I try to steal **two **of your prerogatives in a mere span of a minute."

"You really are goading me," she sat up and looked at him in surprise mixed with pleasure, "I am proud of you Mr. Darcy," she dimpled at him and saw him blink slightly but he made a quick come back.

"Proud you say," he raised an eyebrow, "I thought it was an unforgivable flaw in a person's character."

Elizabeth was beginning to get uncomfortable now. She barely, if ever, lost an argument, especially of the playful kind and Mr. Darcy was constantly stealing her **prerogatives.**

"Not if it is under good regulation," she tipped her head to a side and almost stuck her tongue at him.

"And is it under good regulation in this instance?" The man simply did not know when to let a lady breathe, Elizabeth eyed him warily.

"No, Mr. Darcy," she snapped, "my pride for you exceeds all boundaries. I am sorely tempted to put my head out of the window and shout to every passerby, who would care to hear, how proud I am of my dear husband." She rolled her eyes.

"While you are at it," he said innocently, "could you please tell them how amiable and pleasant I am as well?"

Elizabeth laughed out loud then as she threw back her head.

"No, Mr. Darcy," she said impishly, "I do not lie," and grinned at him again.

"So you do not mind being teased?" he asked in surprise at her laughter.

"I rather like being teased," she said somewhat shyly, "I like anything that makes me smile or laugh. Do you not?"

"Hm," he looked thoughtfully at her, "I am not a very jovial person."

"Why do you insist on being grave all the time, Mr. Darcy?" She asked fervently, "you say that you do not smile much, that you are not cheerful and wherever you go silence reigns but I have not noticed that. True, you are not a chatter box, but nor are you dead," she stopped to take a breath and then said archly, "not yet anyway."

"So," he began hesitantly as he picked up the book laying beside him, "does it mean that you are allowing me to get back to my book?"

"I wish Georgiana and Miss de Bourgh were not traveling in a separate coach," she pouted, they could have been such good company.

"It was with your comfort in view that I decided to travel separately," he frowned.

"My comfort?" Elizabeth returned his frown.

"You are not going to keep on sitting like this throughout the journey," he asked in surprise, "are you?"

"How do you mean?" She still did not understand him.

"Do you not want to get comfortable," he gestured towards her feet, "put your legs up on the seat?"

She still kept looking at him in confusion. She would not even dream of putting her shoes on the expensive and plush upholstery of his carriage.

"Come," he placed his book back on the seat and patted next to it, "sit by me. We have already taken one break in today's journey and shall not be stopping again till we reach the inn, it is best that we rest now."

Elizabeth still felt perplexed at what he was trying to do, but complied nonetheless. She got up and came to sit besides him with the book between them and then looked towards him as if to ask, _'now what?'_

"Now you put your feet up on the other seat, relax and go to sleep," he explained to her as if she was a child.

"You are joking," her eyes widened, "the fabric shall be ruined."

"Then remove your boots," he suggested mildly as he shrugged out of his travel coat with practiced ease and threw it on the seat Elizabeth was previously occupying.

"No," she blushed at the thought of him seeing her feet, even in stockings, "I am all right."

He raised an eyebrow at her and Elizabeth coloured slightly. He had, after all, seen her in that rather revealing night gown, what was a bit of stocking to that? Besides, she was his wife and they were going to spend a lot of time together, whether they liked it or not. It was much better to get over the trivialities now than later. She nodded imperceptibly and pushed down the boots with her feet and hauled them over the seat, a relieved sigh breaking free of her lips.

"Your turn now, Mr. Darcy," she looked towards him and found him eyeing her feet. She ignored the sudden clenching of her heart and looked him straight in the eye as he turned towards her.

"Me," There was surprise in his tone as his eyes widened, "I hope you do not expect me to be so ill mannered as to take my shoes off in front of a lady?

"Mr. Darcy," she cried as she sat up from her relaxed position, "how could you convince me to take mine off and then refuse to do so yourself? You must take yours off as well," she pouted, "you must, I insist."

"Oh but have you not heard," he bent conspiratorially towards her, _"one must never insist."_

Elizabeth's face burned as she recalled her own words from their wedding night, when Mr. Darcy had placed his hand on the wall as he had stood dangerously close to her, cutting her route of escape. And then she paled, it was a horrible moment, when she had thought that he wanted to consummate their farce of a marriage. Elizabeth unconsciously tugged at the strings of her bonnet as she felt suffocated and trapped all of a sudden, just like then, when she had thought that he was going to kiss her.

Unaware of the worried look in Mr. Darcy's eyes, she traced her throat with her fingers, the remembrance of another man's lips on it burning in her memory. She wrenched her bonnet off her head in a swift rush of anger and threw it on Mr. Darcy's coat lying on the seat opposite. George Darcy had ruined her life, tainted her mind with the memory of his touch so that even the mere thought of Mr. Darcy repeating any of his brother's actions had been revolting, unimaginable, **unbearable.**

She started pulling at her gloves in frustration, the heat of unspent anger boiling her blood. George had made her marry a man who thought her a wanton, and whom she thought too arrogant to be an ideal husband. She threw her gloves on top of her bonnet, still oblivious to Mr. Darcy's intense gaze on her every action. Elizabeth was conscious only of the red, hot wound in her heart that burned every moment, that did not let her forget, that did not let her enjoy, that did not let her breathe. She rested her back on the velvet cushioning, her arms folded angrily over the beautiful green pelisse; he had done it on purpose, she knew it. George Darcy knew how different she and his brother were, he knew how they would fight and argue all the time, he knew and perhaps cultivated his brother's horrible impression of Elizabeth and so he must have planned to bring them together in a union that would make both of them miserable.

She closed her eyes, her face unknowingly contorting with anger and despair. She wanted to punish him, to see him stand in front of her and plead for her forgiveness, a forgiveness that she would never grant him, she wanted him miserable and suffering for what he had done to her. She wanted George Darcy to…a soft touch on her hand jolted her out of her morose thoughts. She opened her eyes and looked into Mr. Darcy, and her anger melted away.

Charlotte was right, she was not the only one suffering from this match. Mr. Darcy must also be unhappy, deeply so, for along with an unwanted wife, he was also burdened with the betrayal at the hands of his own brother. She tried to smile at him, but her lips just would not obey her. Her facial muscles felt rigid, as if she had not used them for smiling or laughing in ages, even though she had laughed at something Mr. Darcy had said not even ten minutes ago.

"Are you gearing up for another fight?" He looked warily at her, and she could sense apprehension behind his light manner.

"No," she shook her head and closed her eyes, not being able to bear the considerate look on his handsome countenance, "I would like to sleep now. You may go back to your reading. I am sorry I ever took you away from it."

She felt him sit back, but no sound of turning pages was heard again till they reached the inn. Elizabeth did not sleep, despite keeping her eyes shut for the rest of the journey, her mind jumping from Longbourn to Pemberley, from her new family to her old and from George Darcy to Fitzwilliam Darcy.

* * *

Anne looked at her formidable cousin and his wife with interest as they sat eating in the private dining room of the inn that they were staying at.

"…sleep while traveling," Georgiana dabbed the napkin on her lips delicately as she excitedly talked about her traveling habits to her new sister, "that is why the mere thought of a journey makes me wretched."

"And I cannot read while traveling," Anne observed the smile that Mrs. Darcy gave Georgiana and a smile appeared on her lips as well, she had such an infectious air of life and happiness about her, even though she had gone through the worst of circumstances, "that is why the mere thought of a journey makes me bored."

"But today even the actual journey must have been rather dull," Anne looked at Mrs. Darcy carefully in order to gauge her reaction, "William is seldom good company on a journey, especially if he has a book to bestow all his attention on."

"He almost said the same thing as well," she smiled that pearly smile of hers as she looked at Darcy, whose attention remained upon his soup, men really did eat a lot. "But he has been an ideal companion Miss de Bourgh," Anne noticed the slight colour on Darcy's cheeks with surprise, "teasing me when I needed to be teased, letting me sleep when I wanted to and ignoring me when I deserved to be ignored," her eyes were shining with mischief.

"William," she looked questioningly at Darcy as he at last finished his dinner, "do you not have anything to say?"

"No," he said dryly, "I shall let you two fight it out over my various virtues or lack thereof."

"I do so love to be the devil's advocate," Mrs. Darcy clasped her hands together and said with a dreamy, far off look on her face.

Anne could not remember the last time that she had laughed with wine spraying out of her mouth. Georgiana's eyes widened for a moment before she grinned at her as well. William however remained unperturbed, other than a slight twinkling of his eyes that could only be noticed by someone who knew him well and Anne did know him well. As they sat having their tea on the sofas, she felt, for the first time after their wedding, that perhaps there was a chance for happiness for these two people who were, as yet, strangers to each others but who had the potential, with only a little effort, to become so much more.

After tea, the three ladies repaired to the room that was initially supposed to be Georgiana's when Darcy had planned to travel with his sister only, after his brother's wedding. Afterwards Darcy had decided to travel with only his wife and therefore that room was supposed to belong to Mrs. Darcy for the night. But unaware of the fact that there would probably be no other room available besides this one, she had insisted that Anne and Georgiana travel with them, and so it was that Mrs. Darcy was now to spend the night in her husband's room.

Anne watched in compassion and Georgiana in trepidation as Mrs. Darcy took deep breaths before she bade them good night and entered the adjoining room, shutting the door behind her.

"Do you think she is happy, Anne?" Georgiana asked her as she got under the covers.

"She is not the sort of person who can stay morose for long," Anne wrapped the covers around herself as she thought of how similar her betrothed and Darcy's wife were in temperament, "she will be more than happy quite soon, I am sure of it."

She heard her young cousin heave a sigh of relief and pretty soon, her soft snores could be heard in the still room. Anne closed her eyes and the laughing countenance of Richard flashed behind her lids, she smiled, he was coming to Pemberley soon.

* * *

Darcy cleared his throat awkwardly as he stood up after Elizabeth entered through the adjoining door, _'what is it about being with her in a bedroom that makes my heart race so?' _He thought averting his eyes from her. Though the night gown she had chosen for herself that night was even less revealing than her morning dresses, there was still the air of unmistakable charm about her.

They stood at some distance from each other as one shuffled his feet and the other fidgeted with her hands.

"So this is why," Elizabeth was the first to speak as she looked around the room, "you were reluctant to bring your sister and cousin along on the journey."

"Yes," he said mildly, "the season has ended and everyone is moving back to their homes. The inns are booked to the hilt nowadays, and I was fairly certain that we will not get an extra room."

"And rightly so," Elizabeth sighed and moved towards the couch by the window, "I had no idea, Mr. Darcy," she turned to face him and then sat down, "or I would not have insisted," she told him earnestly.

"I did try to tell you," he could not help but look accusingly at her, "but it seems that once you are decided on a course, there is no deterring you."

"I only thought that traveling with more people would be more enjoyable," Darcy could see her hackles rising, "it is not as if you have been bending over backwards to keep me company."

"It is not my fault that I am not an inconsolable chatterbox," he frowned at her. What did she want from him? He had tried to keep her company, at least until she had closed her eyes and her face had turned into a whirlpool of varying emotions.

Her laughter tinkered in the stillness of the room before she clasped her hand to her mouth, trying to stop it. Darcy's frown deepened, Elizabeth really did have a knack for laughing at the oddest times.

"An…an…," she said between fresh bouts of laughter, her eyes glinting, "an…inconsolable chatterbox? No indeed."

Darcy huffed, his new bride was once again makingfun of him. Oh how Elizabeth provoked him as she sat a few feet away from him in a dowdy night gown, a simple braid and a broad grin. He was right, goading him was truly her prerogative and she took it rather seriously.

"These are perhaps the last words that I shall use to describe you," she said still smiling broadly, the laughter had thankfully stopped.

"And both of us know which are the first," he scoffed. _'Proud, arrogant, conceited,' _he thought, _'to name a few.'_

"Yes," how could she stay behind in a mocking competition, "**such** is the level of our understanding of each other's character."

"Or rather the worst of each other's character," he said mildly now as he stood in the centre of the room looking at her.

It was true, unconsciously, both Elizabeth and Darcy had developed the habit of always looking for faults in each other. She would constantly attribute his behaviour to pride or haughtiness and he would forever be disparaging what he thought of as her insolence._ 'A very promising start to a very unusual marriage indeed,'_ he thought sardonically.

"Mr. Darcy," she called him after silence of a few minutes, "do you remember how you asked me not to argue anymore while we stood in front of Desiree's portrait?"

He nodded. It was after a particularly difficult night filled with dreams of her in err…rather inappropriate attire, among other things, that he had decided to call for a truce. Arguments with Elizabeth always made him think about her more and that was something he was determined to avoid.

"Won't you sit down," she rubbed the back of her neck, "it is a little difficult for me to keep looking up at you."

He had the urge to pout childishly and tell her not to look at him then, but he would never pout in front of such an observant woman as his wife, for she would surely make fun of him about it until he would be tempted to end at least one of their lives. Darcy slowly started to turn towards the chair he had been sitting upon before she had come into the room when her voice halted him.

"Not there," she said quickly, sitting up a bit.

Darcy looked questioningly at her and she pointed towards the other end of the couch on which she was sitting. He walked there and sat down, it was a large sofa and both of them sat comfortably upon it without, thank the Lord, touching. She folded her legs under her like she had on their wedding night, an action that strangely made her look younger.

"Mr. Darcy," she began after adjusting her robe slightly, "do you mind if I quote you from that night? _Let us not fight anymore."_

Darcy blinked, _'could she be serious?' _He thought warily. After all it was Elizabeth who started the arguments most of the time.

"Do you really mean it?" He observed her carefully. She had this habit of trying to make situations lighter by laughing at small, sometimes not even humourous things, and that gave the impression as if she was happy and content. Previously perhaps it was true, but as he sat across her on the sofa, her eyes belied her laughter from a few moments ago. She was deeply unhappy, and it showed.

"I do," she said earnestly as she moved towards him slightly, "are you not thoroughly exhausted of this constant bickering? You say something and I twist it into something else, I say something and you quickly lose your temper. We cannot allow this to go on, unless you plan to get an annulment." Her large beautiful eyes looked questioningly at him from under dark lashes.

An annulment? Darcy's heart sank as he realized that she still had not completely let go of that idea, _'it_ _was not to be_ _borne.'_

"Let me make one thing **very** clear to you," he looked at her rather formidably, "only one thing can part you and me now that we are bound together for life, and that is death," he saw her eyes widen slightly but continued on, "you must forget about having this marriage annulled for it shall not be happening, **ever."**

"I have not thought about an annulment ever since the last time we talked about it," she said gravely, "I realize now that an annulment is not the solution to our problem," she took a deep breath and sat back as her fingers played with the belt of her gown, her eyes staring at the crooked painting at the back of the bed. "The very reason that we sit here united in the eyes of God and men is to save our families from disgrace, and an annulment is only going to be worse then a broken engagement or an abandoned marriage. Therefore the marriage shall stand, as you said, till our dying day."

Darcy kept looking at her as her voice dipped and rose, it was not exactly melodious nor was it soft but it was easy on the ears nonetheless, and she always spoke with such an air of intelligence and depth that one could not help but listen with all their heart.

"I suppose I am trying to say that parting ways is not going to help us or our families," she talked on, ignorant of the rising intensity in her husband's eyes, "but nor is pointless arguing and bickering. And Mr. Darcy," she suddenly turned towards him and there was that fire in her eyes again, the fire of purpose, "you might find it difficult to believe but I am not a quarrelsome person, truly."

"I do not find it difficult to believe," he said swiftly, meaning every word, "and nor am I. It is only the circumstances that are making us behave in so dissimilarly from our usual selves," he said with understanding.

"Yes," she moved towards him again, "absolutely, and therefore we have to change the circumstances, to curb the impulse of needlessly trying to defend ourselves in front of the other when neither you nor I are trying to attack."

"And how do you suppose we do it?" He could not believe he was having this conversation with her at an inn in the middle of the night.

"By agreeing not to fight, by showing restraint, by being patient and understanding," she said firmly.

"I agree not to fight," he declared solemnly, feeling relaxed suddenly, her idea seemed like a good one, "I shall show restraint, I will be patient," his brow furrowed, "but I do not understand you, at all."

"Mr. Darcy," she rolled her eyes and warned him, "you are treading on thin ice here." Darcy shrugged his shoulders and Elizabeth continued, "there has to be an embargo on certain topics as well."

"My brother," he blurted out without thinking and her face clouded, "I…I did not…"

"It is all right Mr. Darcy," she took a deep calming breath and Darcy could smell mint on it, he changed his position slightly in discomfort, "My father," she said unexpectedly and Darcy turned sharply towards her.

"Look here," he began but got cut before he could go on.

"Do not try to defend him, Mr. Darcy," her stance was hard, "your betrayal is perhaps more severe, but mine is not too trivial either."

Darcy looked thoughtfully at her, he knew that she had been at least a little hopeful about Mr. Bennet's coming around in time on the night at the theatre. But instead he had hidden the fact of her groom being changed from the brother she wanted to the one she did not much like, and it had been a harsh blow to her. He could see that she was a proud woman in some respects.

"The circumstances leading up to the marriage," he thought it better to proceed with the taboo topics.

"The marriage settlement," she said with just a hint of a smile.

"My pride, arrogance and haughtiness," he loosened up as well as he turned more towards her and placed his elbow at the back of the sofa.

"My insolence and supposedly caustic tongue," her eyes shone with mischief.

Darcy wanted to groan loudly, why would she bring up her tongue into all this? Now he would not be able to get that thought out of his mind, even though it was no longer inappropriate to think about her in **that **manner.

"Why I do not talk or laugh much," he thought it wise to get that out of the way as well.

"Why I do not drink wine," she also chimed in with a seemingly innocent topic.

"Why do you not?" He asked before he could stop himself.

"Are you breaking our verbal contract already?" She wagged her eyebrows teasingly.

"No," he felt embarrassed at his lapse, "but I think there must be more to it than mere dislike."

She blushed crimson, and Darcy's curiosity was peaked, there must be some deep, dark and humourous secret lurking behind her aversion to alcohol.

"If you follow all the rules that we have established today," the smile she directed towards him was full of mischief, "I shall tell you all about it after a month."

"A person who can follow rules better than me," he raked a hand through his hair, "is yet to be born." She chuckled.

"You are sorely tempting me to break at least one of your rules," she said impishly as her eyes danced with mirth.

"But you cannot," he said firmly and then looked towards her legs, "do you not get tired of sitting like this. I had noticed this posture on err…our…ahem…wedding night as well."

"Sometimes," she told him, "oh and that night, I could hardly walk when I woke up initially, my legs were cramping awfully."

Darcy felt his face flush as he recalled the maid's words on why Elizabeth could not walk properly that morning. She had attributed it to his supposed rough treatment of her that night. Darcy had talked to Mrs. White about the gossiping maids and the punishment they should get. He, however, had refrained form letting them go, for after all, indecent and false as the gossip was, it was Darcy's own fault that it got into circulation. He cleared his throat needlessly, barely able to look at his wife anymore let alone remain sitting there.

"I think we ought to go to b…err…sleep, now," he uttered hastily, "you can take the bed, I shall sleep here."

"Oh no," she said quickly, "you shall not be comfortable here, nor would you fit on this sofa. I shall stay where I am and you can sleep on the bed."

"No please," he was horrified, that would be the height of bad manners, "I cannot possibly allow you to sleep so uncomfortably. You must take the bed, I insist."

Her eyes twinkled and Darcy knew what she was thinking, _'Oh but Mr. Darcy, one must never insist,' _her voice rang out in his ears.

"If you sleep in the bed tonight," she said consolingly, "then I shall take it at the next inn we stop at. Is that acceptable to you?"

He nodded, got up and went towards the bed. They could have argued all night, without any result and what she had said made sense as well, after all they would not be getting any room tomorrow either. He picked up a blanket and a pillow and walked back to deposit it on the sofa where she was still sitting in her childish pose.

"How do you sleep?" He asked her in order to know if he should blow out the candles or not.

"Laying on the bed," she looked at him in confusion as she answered him, "preferably with a pillow under my head."

Darcy blinked.

"I meant to ask if you would rather leave the candles burning or should I blow them out?"

"Oh," her cheeks heated up, "I do not mind the dark," she said with lowered lashes.

Darcy nodded, not that she was watching and proceeded to blow all the candles except the one by his bed out, got under the covers and then blew that as well. After a while his eyes got used to the dark and he raised his neck slightly to see if she had gone to sleep or not. It was a moonlit night outside and through the thin baize curtains, a dim light illuminated her form by the window. Elizabeth was sitting with her back towards him as she looked outside the window and slowly unbraided her hair, in no hurry to sleep.

Darcy placed his head back on the pillow, feeling relaxed for the first time after his marriage to her, sure that things would get better now that they had established certain parameters in which to stay and work on their relationship, or lack thereof.

* * *

**Day two on the road**

Elizabeth walked at a leisurely pace in the woods near the inn with Anne, they had progressed to first names in the course of this morning as Mr. Darcy placed the three ladies in one carriage and traveled in the other with his book to keep him company. Anne reminded Elizabeth of Charlotte, not too talkative but sensible and wise beyond her years. She felt content that morning, she had resolved her differences, or at least decided not to argue about them, with Mr. Darcy, found a sister like Jane in Georgiana and a friend like Charlotte in Anne.

"I have often been envious of Georgiana," Anne said as she looked at Mr. Darcy and his sister walking some distance away, there arms interlinked and heads bowed together in earnest conversation, "brothers can be a blessing, you know."

"I do now," Elizabeth's eyes remained firmly at the picture the two siblings presented, as they stopped near a tree and turned to face each other. They were so dissimilar in looks, Georgiana was flaxen haired and blue eyed whereas Mr. Darcy had dark raven hair coupled with piercing grey eyes. It would have been difficult to believe them to be related, if it had not been for their manner towards each other, that of unmistakable attachment and devotion. "And ever since I have seen them together, I have often found myself wishing I had one, as well."

"You should have seen them when Georgiana was born," Anne said as she bent down to pick up a leaf, "both brothers were crazy about her, fighting as to who would hold her and for how long," she smiled up at Elizabeth who returned her smile, "George won of course, William loved him too much to say no."

That name, Elizabeth clenched her fingers, it was like a whiplash on her ears. She knew that her expression must have changed somehow as she noticed the sudden pallor on Anne's face.

"I apologize, Elizabeth," she said quickly, "I was not paying attention to my words."

"It is all right," Elizabeth tried, in vain, to smile, "you cannot avoid his name in my presence forever."

"But I can," she said earnestly, "and I will too. That is what friends are for."

Elizabeth smiled gratefully as she looked into Anne's clear eyes, yes, she had found a Charlotte.

"It must have been a blow to them to lose their mother so soon after Georgiana was born," Elizabeth asked Anne.

"Oh yes," Anne nodded and told her in a sad tone, "Lady Anne, my aunt, was an exceptionally caring mother and was unusually close to both her sons. They were different creatures before her death."

"How so?" Elizabeth asked curiously, as they turned around when they spotted the Darcy siblings making their way back towards the carriages.

"Well, George's frivolous impulses were always in check at that time," Anne said thoughtfully, "he was naughty to be sure, but never as selfish and heedless as he became afterwards."

"And Mr. Darcy?" She asked, not really interested in what George was or became later.

"William lost some of his softness after her death," she said sadly, "he is still kind and gentle, but he has consciously developed a hard edge around him, which is difficult to cross at times or to peep through. I wish you could have seen him then," Anne said with a trace of regret in her voice, "you would have fallen in love with him directly," her voice became teasing in the end.

Elizabeth's laughter echoed in the woods, Mr. Darcy and Georgiana turned around and looked curiously at the two laughing girls and then proceeded on towards the carriage.

"Oh Anne," Elizabeth grinned at her new cousin, "I am so glad that you shall be here to keep me company, and to make me laugh like this. To be sure, this is the funniest thing I have heard in a long time."

"You shall not find it too funny when you actually fall in love with William," Anne smiled as she shrugged her shoulders.

**"If **I ever do," Elizabeth mocked and they walked up to the carriages. Mr. Darcy helped them up and then walked towards his own carriage, in the same purposeful manner that he did everything in.

The carriage rolled ahead and soon picked up speed. Georgiana's head came to rest upon Anne's shoulder and Anne's head upon her head, dark brown hair clashing prettily with soft fair ones. She sighed and once again thought how good it would have been if along with a sister like Jane, she had also had a brother like Mr. Darcy.

She could tease him and laugh with him, and he could protect her and guide her well through her life. Perhaps it had been with that very thought in her mind that she had not resisted when he had taken her into his arms. For even though she had suspected him to be of a mind to consummate the marriage, deep down she had known that he never would unless he was sure of her willingness. He had been a source of immense displeasure to her in the morning and some part of the evening, but at night, he had been the very support that she had needed, the security that she had craved ever since George had taken advantage of her in the library. He had occupied the place in her life that had previously been her father's, the place of the person that was a pillar of strength for her.

His carriage crossed theirs and Elizabeth had a quick glimpse of Mr. Darcy staring outside at the passing scenery, a forlorn expression on his face. She felt sad for him, and for the woman he loved, Lady Felicity. They were perfect for each other, both from renowned, well bred backgrounds, impeccable connections and similar upbringing, perhaps similar dispositions as well. Elizabeth forgave Lady Felicity now that she understood the reason behind her coldness which she had displayed at Hyde Park, the poor woman must have thought that Elizabeth was Mr. Darcy's betrothed and must have been heartbroken.

She closed her eyes in an effort to sleep, how many hearts had this marriage broken and to what end? She wished that some day, a time would come when people would learn to follow the path to happiness, regardless of family names, reputations and silly norms that the society imposed upon them.

* * *

Later that night, Elizabeth entered the room at the inn to find Mr. Darcy already asleep on an uncomfortable looking couch that was rather too small for him. She started to blow out the candles one by one, he was quite stubborn really, he could have taken the bed and left the couch for her, after all it was of a more apt size for Elizabeth than Mr. Darcy. She turned off the lamp and walked towards the table by the couch to blow out the candle there and her eyes fell on the sleeping countenance of Mr. Darcy.

He looked less formidable asleep, his features less stern and with no intense eyes to discomfit her, he looked younger as well. Elizabeth smiled slightly and went towards the bed after blowing out the last remaining candle. She had not been able to sleep on the journey, therefore she became unconscious to the world as soon as she closed her eyes. It was a dreamless sleep from which she woke up rather early.

Elizabeth peeped from behind her covers to find Mr. Darcy stretching himself as he stood near the windows, in the dim light of a lone candle, that he must have lit as she had blown them all out before she went to bed. Suddenly his hand reached up behind his neck and rubbed there as he tilted his neck to a side. Elizabeth felt alarmed, he must have had a very uncomfortable night.

"Mr. Darcy," she called him as she sat up slightly, he turned around and she could see the faint traces of embarrassment on his face.

"Did I wake you?" He asked self-consciously, "I tried not to make any noise."

"Was it really very terrible?" She asked rubbing her eyes and stifling a yawn.

"No," he was obviously lying as his hand reached behind his neck again, "quite the contrary."

"Is that why you are up in the middle of the night," she mocked as she started to braid her hair loosely after sitting up fully and resting her back at the bedpost, her covers slipping down, "counting stars?"

"I have slept as much as I wanted to," he looked sternly at her as he now fully turned around and stared with an odd expression on his face.

"And have you lied as much as you wanted as well?" Elizabeth got off the bed and threw her braid back as she slipped her feet into her slippers. She could not help but tease him, his disheveled state and reddened eyes were calling out to be teased.

"I want to add something to the list of forbidden things that you compiled yesterday," he said suddenly and Elizabeth's eyes narrowed.

"Is that why you cannot sleep?" She asked innocently, after getting up and moving towards him.

"No Elizabeth," he said in exasperation and Elizabeth decided that she liked her name on his lips.

"Tell me," she stepped nearer till only a few feet divided them.

"Not being teased in the middle of the night," his eyes glinted in the almost dark room and Elizabeth chuckled softly.

"Only if you admit that you have not been able to sleep all night," she said playfully noticing how he kept on eyeing the bed wistfully, "and the very little sleep you did manage to get, was full of dreams about beds as large as castles, to fit your exceedingly long legs."

"My legs are not exceedingly long," he said indignantly but she could detect a certain lightness in his mood.

"Oh?" Her midnight teasing was by no means over, "excessively long then?" She folded her arms on her chest, as she raised an eyebrow at him in challenge.

"Stop teasing me," he warned as he stepped closer to her, removing some of the distance between them.

"Confess then," she stood her ground as a mischievous smile erupted on her face, "and your wish shall be granted."

"How do you know what I want," he stepped closer still, "are you a mind reader, madam?"

The light from the candle made his eyes so dark and strangely appealing, _'he truly is rather handsome,' _Elizabeth thought secretly.

"No," she shook her head and some of her hair fell loose from her braid, "but it is obvious from your face that you have not had a very comfortable night."

"Is it?" He raked a hand in his dark hair, "it was rather horrible," he confessed sheepishly, at last.

"There shall be no more midnight teasing from now on," she unwrapped her hands and placed one of them on her heart, in a manner of someone swearing solemnly, "and now to grant your wish," she took in his curious impression with amusement, "you may have the bed for the rest of the night, Mr. Darcy."

"I cannot possibly," he said in a surprised manner, "it is your turn."

"We made the rules, Mr. Darcy," she said firmly, "and therefore we can break them as well."

"Do you not want to sleep anymore?" he turned around and looked yearningly towards the bed. Elizabeth chuckled.

"I shall be fine on this couch," she smiled up at him, "but if you do not go to bed right this moment," she threatened playfully, "I might change my mind."

"I am truly grateful to you," he said hastily walking towards the bed and then crawled under the covers, an involuntary sigh escaping his lips. Elizabeth stifled her giggle with difficulty as his head shot up to gauge her reaction.

"Do not worry Mr. Darcy," she turned towards the window with a smile upon her lips, "I did not hear anything."

This time he groaned and Elizabeth's chuckle was also audible. She stood looking outside for a few moments and then walked up to the couch to find Mr. Darcy's robe lying there. Elizabeth picked it up and went towards the bed to deposit the robe on it, when suddenly Mr. Darcy mumbled something in his sleep.

"Eleezz…smellssogooood…"

Her face flushed as she noticed that his nose was indeed buried under the covers while he breathed in **her smell,** deeply. Elizabeth quickly turned away and went to sit on the couch, with his robe still in her hands. Perhaps it was because of his words, or perhaps she just wanted to know what he smelled like, she briefly buried her nose into the folds of the soft silk fabric. It was nothing like she had expected, it was just a clean fresh smell, mixed with something that she could not name, nor had she smelled it before, maybe it was **him.**

It reminded her of when he had embraced her on their wedding night. Elizabeth carefully folded his robe and placed it beside her on the couch as she pushed the blanket away to sit more comfortably, he had smelled exactly like his robe. He had been so kind, and thoughtful that night that it had not taken Elizabeth long to forgive and forget everything bitter that had taken place between them earlier. And that was what she had come to associate his smell with, kindness.

She wondered briefly, as her lids began to get heavy, if they truly would not fight with each other, after making that pact. They had been successful in keeping it for a day at least, or perhaps that was because they had hardly interacted throughout that day. If only he would be gentle and kind and teasing too, she smiled groggily, all their lives, then perhaps it would not be too hard.

* * *

**The last day on the road**

It was thus that Darcy found her on the morning of the third day of their journey, with her hand lost in the silkiness of his robe, a sight strangely moving. Elizabeth seemed so content in her sleep that he did not want to stir her but since both his valet and her maid must have been waiting for them, therefore he thought it wise to wake her up. Hopefully she would go to the adjoining room and prepare for the day there, as she had done the day previous.

That day passed much like the previous one, with the ladies traveling together and Darcy separately, but where he had been engrossed by his book before, all he could think of was his wife on the third day as the clip clop of the horses' hooves went on interminably. From her dowdy robe to her sac like night gown, from her soothing smile to her challenging manner, and from her hot words to her peace offering, she dominated his mind quite effortlessly through out that day till they finally halted at the last stop of their journey.

The ladies followed him tiredly inside the inn where he made the usual inquiries for separate rooms and the inn keeper, for a change, told him that they did in fact had an empty room. The disappointment he felt at this was surprising in its acuteness. Darcy, however, schooled his features into indifference before turning around to inform his wife, sister and cousin of their good fortune. Perhaps it was wishful thinking on his part but he observed a shadow pass on Elizabeth's face before she smiled and thanked him.

After almost three days on the road, Darcy felt tired and drawn as he threw himself on the bed, but sleep did not come as easily as it had on the previous days. His thoughts kept moving in the direction of the sole occupant laying, or so he assumed, on the bed in the adjoining room. He wondered if she was thinking about him as well, and then shook his head at such silly thoughts and gave himself up to the sleep that was ready to claim him.

The journey to Pemberley was of a short duration from the inn that they had stayed the night, the rejuvenated horses traveled at a good speed, as Darcy sat besides Elizabeth and opposite Anne and Georgiana in the carriage where only the occupants of the opposite seat carried on the conversation. Darcy had never been overly talkative and Elizabeth had been unusually quiet since the morning. He turned his neck slightly and saw her staring emptily outside the window, where the clouds had started to gather. He turned away and emulated her actions by likewise staring outside, it was then that the first drop of rain fell on the window glass.

"Its raining," Elizabeth spoke up for the first time that day staring outside at the rain pelting against the windows as the carriage took the turn towards Pemberley.

Darcy would have thought any new bride to be very excited to visit her new home, regardless of it being a grand estate or a small cottage, but it must be different for Elizabeth. He gazed at Elizabeth from the corner of his eyes and found that she looked anything but. He remembered the time when she had told him in town that she wanted to go to Krenmoral Abbey after her marriage, perhaps she was once again feeling the cruel blow that fate or George had dealt her.

"I hope you do not mind too much that you shall not be able to see the house yet," Georgiana said consolingly to Elizabeth in her soft voice.

"She has the rest of her life to keep looking at it, sweeting," Anne smiled at Georgiana.

Elizabeth also tried to smile, but Darcy could see that it was an effort. He sighed and turned away as Georgiana kept on telling Elizabeth about the house. Pemberley was Darcy's haven when he got tired of the ton and its worthless activities in the name of socializing. He never understood how people could prefer the the constant hubbub of London to the privacy and seclusion of one's own home.

He had always favoured the solitude of long rides over the commotion of a ballroom, the pleasure of reading a book over the ceaseless chatter of a party and the contentment of a simple meal over the countless dishes available in a soiree. The carriage came to a halt in the portico as the powerful shower blurred all the beauty around them. Darcy had always hoped that his wife would share his notion of how a good time is to be had, but now as he extended his arm to help her down the carriage, he could see that they were two very dissimilar people without any shared interests except perhaps books and arguments.

She placed her hand on his without meeting his eye and they quickly followed Georgiana and Anne into the house, where Mrs. Reynolds, his housekeeper and Gresham, the butler were both standing to greet them.

"I knew that you would be tired after such a long journey, Mr. Darcy," Mrs. Reynolds told him respectfully after she had been introduced to Mrs. Darcy, "therefore I took the liberty of having the staff wait till after dinner to be introduced to Mrs. Darcy."

"Your thoughtfulness is indeed, your greatest asset Mrs. Reynolds," Darcy smiled at the ever diligent woman, without whom Pemberley would not have functioned as it ought. He turned towards Elizabeth then who stood there without any expression on her face, even her usually expressive eyes seemed mute that day.

"Shall we?" He asked and she delicately placed her hand on his arm as they proceeded towards the stairs. Georgiana and Anne preceded them and soon were out of sight.

"The maid shall already be inside," he informed her needlessly as he shuffled his feet after stopping in front of their chambers, _'why is she so quiet?' _He thought in increasing confusion, "there is no hurry to come down for dinner, unless you are hungry of course." His tone was grave, she looked warily up at him and then nodded and averted her eyes once again.

Suddenly it hit him, was she afraid of him, of him trying to perform his marital duties now when they were in the privacy of his actual home? If so, she could not have been further off the mark. Though distinctly attracted to her, Darcy had never given consummation of their marriage any thought at all, it still seemed wrong to him…wrong and somehow improper. Elizabeth had, after all, been the intended of his brother and that was not something you got over in a few days.

"The key to the connecting door shall be provided to you as soon as possible," he said rather stiffly as she raised her beautiful eyes to his face, this time he could read their expression, she was clearly surprised.

"The key is useless to me," she delicately shrugged her shoulders in indifference.

"What do you mean?" He looked at her, slightly perplexed.

"I shall not use it even if it is provided, Mr. Darcy," she said firmly looking into his eyes with her fiery orbs.

**"What **do you mean?" He repeated foolishly, but really, there was no other way to go about it. _'Is she hinting that she wants me to come to her room?' _Darcy gulped, suddenly feeling young and awkward.

"I trust you Mr. Darcy," she bent towards him slightly as she uttered in a lowered voice, "you shall not enter my room without my permission," her voice became warm and her eyes bright, "even if we felt something for each other." Darcy stared at her without blinking, "and both of us know, that that shall **never **happen." She took a deep breath and finally smiled at him, "the key is not required, because you have proven yourself to be a man of your word and a true gentleman besides, in all the times that we have shared a room since our marriage."

_'Oh you would be surprised to know that some of my thoughts during that time had hardly been gentlemanly,' _He coloured slightly.

"And I give you my solemn word again," he thought it would be appropriate to take her hand in his now, but refrained from it after the trust she had shown in him, "your trust shall never be broken by me."

"Nor yours by me," she assured him in turn, and Darcy stiffened slightly for he did not trust her at all, not yet. "Would you go out to the drive with me after the rain has stopped?" She suddenly asked jolting him out from the morose thoughts of the Netherfield library, "I would like to see the house from its master's eyes."

Darcy forgot what he was thinking, could not remember if he had nodded, forgot his mistrust of her, forgot everything as she smiled with her lips and eyes and then disappeared behind the door.

_"No one can be a better guide than the master or mistress of a home," _Lady Anne had told him when he was fifteenand they had guests at Pemberley. Darcy had felt irritated when the Dowager Duchess Crumvil had asked him to show her the house himself, _"and if someone asks to see it through their eyes, it means that they are really interested to __**know**__ the house."_

At first she had agreed not to fight, then she had told Darcy that she trusted him and now she wanted to know the house, he entered his own chambers in a thoughtful mood, _'could Elizabeth be wrong when she said that we will never feel something for each other?'_

* * *

**A/N: **I particularly wanted to address the question of somebody or even Elizabeth herself telling Darcy about what had happened at the Netherfield ball, since it seems to be a matter of great concern among the readers.

Well, its not gonna happen. Darcy has to figure out the truth by unraveling Elizabeth's true character, because once he knows what kind of a woman she is, no evidence will be required. So bear with me on this. Also in my defense…I warned you guys that it will be **slow.**

I am extremely sorry for the delay, hopefully the next update will be on time. Thank you so much for your reviews.

Oh and I will soon be changing my pen name, hope you guys won't have a problem finding the story.

* * *

**Next Chapter: ****Elizabeth, The Mistress of Pemberley**


	19. Chapter 19

**A/N:** My sincerest thanks to LotsOfLaundry, Helena and Tina for pointing out the mistake that I was making with Anne and Georgiana's behaviour. I have gone back and edited it, in case you would like to reread the previous chapter.

I would also like to thank 'antediluvian' for all her help.

I hope that all of my readers know how important there feedback is. Thanks for the reviews, favourites and follows.

**Chapter 19: ****Elizabeth, the Mistress of Pemberley**

He turned the corner and came into view of Pemberley's flower garden, his wife standing near the white roses that his mother had had planted many years ago. Darcy slowly closed the gap between himself and Elizabeth as she bent down to inhale a full blown rose. They had been at Pemberley for five days now, out of which the first three were spent by him in going over the estate matters in his study and by Elizabeth in getting herself accustomed to the large house with the help of Georgiana and Mrs. Reynolds since the heavy rain had made it impossible for anyone to go outside.

"You are late Mr. Darcy," she suddenly straightened up and turned towards him.

"I apologize, madam," he said gravely, "I got held up."

As soon as the weather had cleared, Darcy had gone off to a round of the fields and houses with his steward and had only been able to make his way back to a late dinner. Elizabeth had made him promise to show her the flower garden himself as Georgiana had told her that he had spent many an hour there with their mother. Therefore it was only on the fifth day after their arrival at the grand estate that he had been able to make time for his wife, and she did not look pleased about it.

"I never supposed papers and parchments to hold so much power over a man of your station," she tilted her head and squinted in the sharp morning sun.

Darcy took her appearance in unconsciously. She was wearing a blue muslin morning gown, and had obviously not bothered to wear anything over it, be it a pelisse or a bolero and looked rather svelte for the lack of any outer clothing, not to mention rather fetching as well.

"On the contrary," he drawled as he stepped in front of her to shade her from the harsh summer sun, "a man of my station mostly has to deal with masses of paperwork if he wants to hold on to that station."

"Sounds awfully boring," she shrugged delicately and then smiled up at him, "I hear that you are quite knowledgeable on flowers in here. Ready to give me a lecture on botany Mr. Darcy?"

"I would rather not," he said without thinking and then quickly repented after seeing her hurt expression, "I only meant that, I rarely come here," he told her abruptly, "after my mother's death."

Her expression changed speedily as she stepped closer to him and entwined their arms without him offering his first.

"I would not have asked you to come here," she looked up at him with large sorrowful eyes, "if I had known that this garden would awaken painful memories for you."

"None of my mother's memories could be characterized as such," he told her coldly as his arm stiffened where she held it. The memories of his mother were the most pleasant in all of his life, they had no pain associated with them, only a sense of loss.

"Then why not come here and relive all those beautiful memories of her?" She looked questioningly up at him instead of tactfully changing the topic and then she slowly turned him towards herself, "if I had some way of reaching out to someone who was lost to me by a thing as simple as visiting her garden," she said with feeling now as Darcy stood mesmerized listening to her, "believe me, Mr. Darcy, I would do it every day."

"I…it is difficult sometimes," he looked away from her eyes not wanting them to penetrate through his and read what he was thinking, "the memories are pleasant but the loss is still painful."

"Then we shall dwell on the pleasantness and not the pain," she tugged at his arm and he looked towards her again, "we shall talk about her life and not her loss," Darcy nodded, she sure had a way with words, "and you shall tell me about the garden," her eyes twinkled, "and not the estate matters, for it would surely pain me to hear you drone on and on about it."

Darcy pursed his lips to stop the smile but she arched an eyebrow and it burst forth, she quickly responded in kind and he once again marveled at how sparklingly white her teeth were.

"Let us start at the beginning then," he turned around taking her with him, "where are the others?"

Col. Fitzwilliam had arrived yesterday and after a good night's sleep and a hearty meal, had been walking around the garden with his betrothed, shamelessly taking liberties behind every tree, Darcy was sure.

"Oh Anne and the Col. are walking thereabouts and Georgiana is sketching near the stream," she said nonchalantly, "I wish I could sketch like her, she is quite gifted."

"Do you draw then?" He looked down at her bent head as they stepped carefully between the flower beds.

"Are these dahlias?" She pointed towards the flowers a little way ahead, without answering him.

"Yes," he did not think much of it and proceeded to tell her about the flowers on their left, "They were the first flowers that were planted in this garden, much before my mother's time."

"Then she has not been the sole contributor to this garden?" Elizabeth looked up at him and asked with curiosity as she adjusted her bonnet with the hand that was not placed in the crook of his arm.

"No indeed," he looked around at the vast flower garden, "it was first started by my great grandmother, Desiree, as we have all come to call her," he looked down at Elizabeth's upturned face, her eyebrows joined together in interest, "she was the first one who started it, to spite Fitzwilliam."

"Her husband?" Elizabeth stopped near the flowers and then forgot completely about them. Darcy nodded and then cursed himself at bringing his great grandparents up for now she would not leave him alone until she had had all the answers. "Why would she want to spite him?" She inquired in surprise.

"You of all people should understand that impulse," he mocked as he disentangled their arms and removed his hat.

"Much as I like teasing and being teased, Mr. Darcy," she said coldly as she stepped away from him and moved her fingers lightly over the round buds, "I have no taste or talent for sarcasm."

Darcy sobered up immediately, what he had just said was uncalled for and unjust. It was true that she had maintained her end of the bargain and had not only been a pleasant companion, but also not a very argumentative one.

"My grandmother and Desiree's successor was a very hearty person," he began in an effort to clear the air, "but much of her interest lay in the balls, parties, picnics and soirees, she never really paid attention to the home or the garden. My mother however," he saw Elizabeth turn back towards him and felt relieved, she was obviously curious about Lady Anne, "brought her liking to gardening with her. You shall probably find it hard to believe, but when she got married, at least a hundred potted plants came with her from Matlock to Pemberley."

"Oh how lovely," her eyes shone as she stared far ahead into the garden as if imagining how those plants might have looked, "how many of them are still around?"

"Unfortunately," Darcy sighed, "the winter that year was extremely harsh and a lot of them died, except," Darcy pointed towards a small pergola in the corner that was covered with roses, "her red roses."

"Mr. Darcy," she breathed as she stared at it mesmerized, "your house is enchanting," and then walked slowly towards it in a trance as he followed, "how many wonderful mornings she must have spent here," she turned towards him as they approached the pergola, "did you accompany her often?"

"Not often," he felt a twinge of remorse; it was George who was her companion on her morning excursions to the flower garden, Darcy usually favoured going out for a walk or a ride with her. They often raced as well, he still remembered the first time he had beaten her. He was only twelve then and she was an excellent rider and yet she had looked at him with pride and not resentment, that was the beauty of being a mother perhaps. He turned towards Elizabeth and found looking compassionately up at him.

"The first time Darcy ever willingly came here was to steal roses for his beloved," a hearty voice chirped from behind and they abruptly stepped apart and turned towards the voice to find Richard and Anne standing a little way off by the delphiniums, "Miss Beatrice Wroth."

Darcy coloured deeply as he looked towards Richard in exasperation, _'he could not be trusted to keep his mouth shut, now could he?'_

A soft chuckle brought his attention back to Elizabeth who was looking at him in amusement.

"Oh do tell, Col.," she left his side and proceeded towards Richard, "I would love to know how Mr. Darcy acted whilst in love."

"Pretty much as he acts now," Anne said seriously, "believe me Elizabeth, you would never find out when he falls in love with you." For a moment the only sound to be heard was that of the birds chirping around them.

"I doubt that shall ever happen," she said indifferently. Darcy looked at Elizabeth but she had her back to him as she walked past the engaged couple towards the far corner of the garden.

"Anne," Darcy's look was reprimanding as he eyed his frail cousin and she averted her gaze in mortification.

Richard quickly walked off towards Elizabeth, leaving Darcy and Anne alone.

"I am sorry William," she apologized hastily as she came nearer, "but one day or another, you shall fall in love with her now, would you not?"

"Impossible," he said stiffly, "she was George's betrothed."

"But she is **your** wife," Anne insisted, she was after all Lady Catherine de Bourgh's daughter, and he had never seen his Aunt back out of any argument.

"It is only a marriage of convenience Anne," he raked his hands through his hair in agitation, "now I do not want to hear any strictures about it from either you or Richard," he said resolutely and walked off towards Elizabeth who was laughing at something that Richard had said.

"…shall take your word for it Col.," she said still giggling as he neared them, "for I am quite inexperienced in the matters of the heart."

Darcy faltered in his step, _'inexperienced in the matters of the heart, is she?' _He thought in some surprise wondering what on Earth she was doing in the Netherfield Park's library with his brother if she was so inexperienced. He stood quietly near them as he pondered upon Anne's words and looked at Elizabeth as she tilted her head at Anne who had also joined them, and said something about the Col. regaling her about false tales from Darcy's past. Her fingers were again doing their usual dance upon her collar bone as Darcy's eyes caressed the seemingly soft skin of her neck wondering if Anne was right and he might just fall in love with her one day.

"How wonderful to have something to your name," she looked up at him and smiled as they stood by the wooden plank that said Lady Anne Darcy's Flower Garden, outside the entrance to it. "Something so beautiful as well. I am sure I shall spend a lot of my time in your mother's rose covered pergola," she smiled up at him, "if only you can have a bench placed in there."

"It shall be done as soon as possible," he assured her as he watched the retreating forms of Anne and Richard.

Darcy was feeling strangely emotional in that moment, it seemed as though too much had happened in that short morning trip to the flower garden. He looked at her and found her looking at the pergola with a distant smile on her alluring lips, as if she was envisaging some amazing occurrence happening there. His heart started to beat rather forcefully as she turned her eyes, that were blazing for some reason, towards him. She had the most intriguing eyes in the whole world and suddenly, he did not want them to stray from his face again.

"If I ever had a daughter, Mr. Darcy," she said smilingly as she took the arm he offered her and they began to make their way towards the stream, "I would call her Ivy, or perhaps Rose, even though it is the name of a very good friend of mine. But is it not a great idea to name one's offspring after a flower? I think it…."

Darcy found himself concentrating on how such a daughter would come into being, and simultaneously flushing red hot because of it. He looked sideways at her and she was going on and on about what certain flowers signified or meant, but his mind had suddenly lost all track of what was going on around him. If only she was truly his wife, he would not just be walking around the park with her, he could have told her to stand still as he traced her glowing skin with his fingers, closed her striking eyes with his thumbs as his fingers gently slipped down her cheeks…towards her neck, the long swan neck…with skin so translucent that sometimes he felt he could see the water traveling down her throat if he concentrated really hard…

"…not a wonderful idea Mr. Darcy?" She gently tugged at his arm as she asked him and he realized that he had unconsciously drawn her closer and was staring in a rather odd manner at her throat.

"Brilliant," he tore his eyes away from her face as his tongue lauded the extremely improper daydream he had just been having, for he had no idea what Elizabeth had suggested and had remarked only on what his mind had.

"You were not even listening, Mr. Darcy," she folded her arms on her chest and Darcy resisted the urge to grab her arm and entwine it with his own once again.

Of course he was not listening, how could anyone listen when there was such a sight to be seen. She was pouting again, Darcy groaned inwardly, _'has she no idea what she does to me?' _He wondered vaguely and then reprimanded himself for his hypocrisy. Not even fifteen minutes ago, he had told Anne that it was impossible for him to love his wife for she was his brother's betrothed first, and now here he was visualizing all manner of inappropriate things about her.

Darcy's shoulder's suddenly slumped at the horrible realization that what he had been thinking about her, George had already done with her. He looked at her and she was looking up at him, a mixture of mischievousness and innocence on her young face. Darcy was torn, could she really be capable of such cunning, such wantonness, such a lack of morals?

"Are you all right, Mr. Darcy?" She asked him with worry, stepping nearer and Darcy felt helpless in the face of such charm.

She had such a compelling voice, and every time she said _'are you all right, Mr. Darcy?' _Darcy felt as though he was the only person in the world that she cared about. She made him feel cared for, a feeling that he had never known after the death if his mother, she made him feel…special.

"Yes," he nodded at her, "I admit that my mind was engaged elsewhere. What was the idea that you just told me about?"

"We have already discussed it once," she began a little hesitantly as they started to walk towards the stream, "do you remember that swing by the pond near Longbourn?"

"Of course," he remembered both of their interactions there, vividly, "you advised me to have a swing at Pemberley for Georgiana."

"Oh yes," her eyes glittered in the sun as orange red and bronze danced around in their depths, "would it not be great to have that task done now? How she would love it." She smiled again as they came into view of the stream and Georgiana sitting by it, sketching away.

"And you," he turned towards her as their steps slowed, "would you like it?"

"Of course," she dimpled, "I'm sure Georgiana would not mind sharing it with me from time to time."

"And what if she forbids you to ever come near her swing?" Darcy teased as they neared the oak under which Georgiana sat, its branches spread over the stream.

"She would not," Elizabeth said firmly and then looked archly at him, "are you trying to stir trouble between us sisters?"

_'Sisters,' _Darcy thought pleasantly, it sounded comforting somehow.

"I only wanted to ascertain if you would not like to have one of your own as well," he shrugged lightly.

"And miss all the fun that sharing brings?" She asked with an arch smile, "not even for a kingdom," and then she almost ran the rest of the way to where Georgiana was sitting, "Georgiana," she cried, "enough of this sketching business, I want to go for a walk with you."

Darcy smiled as Georgiana's sketching supplies were mercilessly tossed aside and she was dragged to a standing position and made to walk towards the trees against her will and could not help but admire the picture they made.

"William," she wailed, "your wife is torturing me."

"Oh calm down," Elizabeth huffed, "I have been torturing Mr. Darcy for almost an hour, you do not see him complaining," and then she dragged a laughing Georgiana away.

Darcy turned around and walked back towards the house with a quick step. Elizabeth was not completely wrong, her proximity was a sort of a torture for him but it was not a torture that gave him pain, or at least not anymore. It was a sweet torture that he had begun to like against his will and without realizing.

"Send Robbie to my study," he told Gresham as he entered the house, "immediately."

"Of course, Mr. Darcy," replied his faithful butler.

Darcy briefed the young carpenter, who had recently taken the post of his deceased father at Pemberley, about what kind of a wooden plank he wanted for the swing as well as how strong the rope should be and on which branch of the oak should it be tied to. Robbie listened to him carefully and made a few suggestions of his own that Darcy listened to and approved. However, as he stared outside the window of the rotunda adjacent to his library, it appeared that his instructions were for naught.

Elizabeth had taken the task of directing the two workmen and Robbie herself as they erected the swing. Darcy shook his head, she really was too headstrong. He watched with interest as Elizabeth urged Georgiana to be the first one to try the swing but stepped forward herself as Georgiana hesitated. Darcy's interest increased manifold as he saw his wife remove her shoes and sit carefully down upon the swing and just as it arced towards the stream, Elizabeth pulled her skirts up and dipped her feet into the water.

He chuckled, _'what an enchanting creature,' _he thought, _'and how wholly improper.' _He debated whether he should talk to her about what kind of behaviour was expected of her as the mistress of Pemberley or should he just sit back and watch her smile that beautiful smile of hers? He turned away from the window and walked off into the library, fingering the neatly stacked books absently as he moved along them.

Darcy's life had changed completely in the past few days, and yet not at all. He was doing everything that he always did at Pemberley, but with the addition of spending time with Elizabeth. He would be lying if he said that her presence had not made his life more exciting. Even the constant rain in the past few days had been unable to make him gloomy, he felt alive by simply looking at her. Darcy suddenly halted his movement as his eyes fell on a book by the title of 'King George' and his mind went straight to his brother.

He sighed deeply and walked back towards the rotunda. George had been on his mind more than he would have liked him to be. Darcy had found out that he had gone to Pexley with Farnsworth. He had been tempted to follow him there and call him out on the treachery George had dealt him with, but after sacrificing his independence of choice in the most important decision of his life, he was not going to jeopardize all that by brewing up a scandal. He stared out the window and watched Georgiana perched upon the swing and Elizabeth and Anne encouraging her to go faster.

"Funny how things turn out," Richard said from behind him and Darcy sighed, he would not have used the word _'funny' _to describe his situation, "have you heard from George yet?"

"You mean after that juvenile letter he wrote me on his…my wedding day?" Darcy asked with derision, "No."

"He needs to be taught a lesson Darcy," Richard came and stood next to him, "you cannot leave things as they are."

"What can I do," he shrugged his shoulders trying to sound nonchalant, "he is his own master not to mention independent and with Farnsworth's money to live comfortably on, as long as both of them run out of their inheritances."

"Darcy, he put everything that this family stands for at risk," Richard said in exasperation, "he must be made to see the folly of his deeds."

"And how do you suppose I go about it?" Darcy turned towards him, "should I ask him over so that he can see how blissfully happy and utterly besotted I am with the woman he supposedly cared for?"

"Do you still resent her for what has happened?" Richard asked Darcy and he slowly turned towards the window once again.

Elizabeth was helping Georgiana get off the swing; whatever her faults might have been, George's desertion was not one of them nor had Darcy blamed her for it. George alone was responsible for his actions, or maybe Farnsworth, to some extent.

"No," he said firmly, his eyes on the lithe figure of his wife who skipped ahead of his sister and cousin on their way back to the house.

"Do you still fancy her?" Richard's voice became teasing as Darcy whipped around.

"I never fancied her, Richard," he quickly moved away towards the main library in order to hide his blush, "and I told you yesterday that you cannot stay at Pemberley while Anne is residing here as well. When are you leaving?"

"Do not be such an old stick, Darcy," Richard groaned, "let me stay with her for a while, we are to be married in less than two months."

"If my Uncle found out," Darcy warned as they stepped out of the library and towards the stairs, "or Aunt Catherine, for that matter, do you know what hell they shall put me through?"

"Come now," Richard chuckled, "your skills at chaperoning rival even those of Lady Catherine herself."

Darcy joined his cousin in his laughter, still not comfortable with the two engaged people staying under the same roof as guests. They walked down the stairs and joined the ladies in the small parlour for tea, Darcy's mind still stuck somewhere between discussing what was expected of Elizabeth as the mistress of Pemberley and George.

"Your wife is quite curious about your past, William," Anne teased as Elizabeth dismissed the maid and poured tea for everyone herself, "she has been hounding me about your…err…past association with Miss Wroth."

"I most certainly have not," Elizabeth scoffed and handed Anne her cup while glaring at her, "you must not lie so blatantly about someone who has a hot cup of tea in her hand," she threatened and Richard guffawed, while Georgiana peeped from behind her pianoforte at them, without breaking a note.

"Indeed, Elizabeth," Anne continued with her teasing as she took the cup from her, "you would not have tried to threaten me if you had known my mother. I am quite used to being threatened all the time without being effected in any way by such futile efforts."

"Tell us what she said Anne," Richard walked towards Anne and sat quite close by her, Darcy seethed.

"Richard," he said in warning. It was improper enough that Richard had refused to leave the house but that he let no chance of sitting as close as possible to Anne was simply not to be borne.

"What man," Richard asked his eyes twinkling, "do you not want me to sit by Anne or do you not want me to tell Mrs. Darcy how miserably you failed at winning the heart of Miss Wroth?"

"The latter," Elizabeth blurted out and then immediately reddened as all eyes in the room fastened upon her, "I mean…you know…" she floundered a bit as Darcy stared at her, "I do not care what you think Mr. Darcy," she said defiantly at last, looking straight into his eyes, "do tell Col."

Darcy groaned as Anne giggled and Georgiana joined them leaving the music. Elizabeth brought him his cup and sat down besides him. He took the first sip of his tea and was pleasantly surprised to find it just the way he liked it, without milk or sugar.

"Well, Darcy was fifteen years old then," Richard began.

"Is that not a little too young to fall in love?" Elizabeth asked in some surprise and Darcy turned towards her, she was sitting much closer than he had thought.

"And what do you think the appropriate age to fall in love?" He asked somewhat sarcastically. She coloured slightly as she gave Georgiana a quick look, he frowned and wondered what was bothering her.

"I do not know about men," she said firmly looking into his eyes once again, "but a woman should not attempt it until she is **out."**

And suddenly Darcy was glad for her words. Georgiana was sitting with them and much as he wanted her to have fun talking about the follies of her brother's youth, he did not want her to take any wrong ideas from it given her impressionable age. When Darcy raised his head from his cup again, his eyes held only admiration for his wife. The doubts about what had happened at the Netherfield Library slowly began to grow in size.

"Then you should be pleased to know that the lady who caught his young heart," Richard continued without paying much attention to what was proper for his young cousin's ears, "was in fact out and seventeen years of age."

"Mr. Darcy," Elizabeth turned towards him in mock alarm, "how shocking."

Anne and Georgiana giggled as Elizabeth's eyes glinted with mirth at him, even Darcy, though embarrassed, was enjoying himself.

"Well, Miss Wroth did not have any flowers to wear to the ball that was held here at Pemberley, and so she cried and cried and cried, until I wanted to box her ears," Anne said with a fond smile on her lips as she reminisced the times gone by, "William and I were not to attend since we were deemed too young, and therefore I do believe that some of my impatience with her was also due to the fact that I was thoroughly jealous of her status of being 'out into the society'."

"But since Darcy was not jealous of her, at all, quite the opposite infact," Richard chimed in to detail the juicy bits about the tale as Darcy began to feel the heat seep into his face, "so he very selflessly, stole all of my aunt's chrysanthemums or were they dahlias? And bundled them up at the feet of Miss Wroth."

"Oh how romantic," both Elizabeth and Georgiana cried in unison and Darcy was startled out of his mortification as Elizabeth's hand, unconsciously landed on his.

"Romantic?" Richard protested, "it was downright stupid."

"Col. Fitzwilliam," Elizabeth said with fervour as her soft palm pressed further above Darcy's hand, "this is the most romantic thing I have ever heard of. I had no idea that Mr. Darcy's nature had such a sweet bent," she turned her glowing eyes towards him.

"Err…well," Darcy did not know how to react to this. What he had always thought of as one of the silliest things he had ever done, was being lauded as the most romantic thing by both his sister and wife. He turned towards Richard, whose eyes were about to pop out of their sockets and smirked.

"You disappoint me, Mrs. Darcy," Richard said sitting dejectedly in his seat, "are you not jealous?"

"Why should I be jealous of someone who is a decade older than me?" She shrugged and said with a naughty twinkle in her eyes, "I do sympathize with her however."

Richard threw back his head and laughed, joined in by Anne and Georgiana. Darcy turned towards Elizabeth as he felt her withdrawing her hand. He quickly turned his own hand and caught it in his.

"Meet me in the library after dinner tonight," he said as she looked at him in puzzlement, "I have something to discuss with you."

She nodded and then pulled her hand out of his as she went to the pianoforte. She played well, though not quite proficiently, but Darcy felt soothed and decided that he liked her style. He had asked her to join him in the library for he wanted to discuss her role as the mistress of Pemberley with her, hoping that she would not mind his advice. Darcy slowly rubbed his fingers on his palm and decided that he liked the feel of her hand in his.

* * *

Arriving at Mr. Darcy's estate in Derbyshire had somewhat dampened Elizabeth's spirits. The closer they got to it, the unhappier she became. Every mile was taking her away from Longbourn, the only house she had ever known to be hers. She thought of the room she had shared with Jane, the large and messy dining table, the small but sufficient garden and Mr. Bennet's library. They might be nothing in size and comfort to the house she was going to now but they would forever remain in her memory as the most cherished.

But her morose thoughts did not destroy her willingness to accustom herself to her new surroundings and with the help of Anne and Georgiana, she was restored to good humour high spirits quite soon. She knew that Mr. Darcy was a very rich gentleman and that his estate, if Mrs. Gardiner was to be believed, was one of the grandest in Derbyshire. But she was still surprised by it all. She had never seen anything so near perfect, so exquisitely beautiful in its construction and at the same time so naturally endowed and untouched.

_'Pemberley,' _Elizabeth inhaled the smell of hundreds of flowers around her as she stood in Lady Anne's flower garden. The incessant rain ever since she had arrived at her new home had not let her observe the grounds and the stream here, but it had allowed her to explore the inside of it. She had surveyed the house rather thoroughly, with the help of her new sister, since her husband was too busy poring over papers that interested her not.

She moved towards the black roses and looked down at them in deep thought. The stairs, the rooms, the dressing rooms, even the bathrooms, everything about Pemberley was impressive. Being rich undoubtedly had its perks for it seemed to her as though her room had a magic mirror with a direct connection to the servants quarters, she would not be awake a moment and a maid would ask for permission and the day would start with a luxurious bath.

It was when Elizabeth bent down to smell a rose that she sensed his presence close by. She straightened up and turned to look at her husband, who had finally stolen some moments away from the files and the tenants to spend them with her. He was a curious man, this Mr. Darcy. She looked towards him as he stood between her and the glowering summer sun, perhaps by coincidence, perhaps consciously to shade her.

She talked to him of flowers as her mind kept moving between her new family and her old one. Mr. Darcy had been kind, though somewhat indifferent where she was concerned and that suited her to perfection. The last thing her torn heart and tortured thoughts needed was a husband that wanted to assert his rights, in that respect at least, he was an ideal spouse. Col. Fitzwilliam and Anne's approach halted her conversation with Mr. Darcy, and it was after they had gone that she caught him staring oddly at her throat.

He did sometimes looked at her in a manner that she could not quite explain. Sometimes it seemed only an absence of thought but at other times, his eyes held so much meaning that she could call his gaze anything but an absentminded look. She wondered what he thought of her now that they had been married for more than a week. She smiled as she spotted Georgiana sketching away with fervour. Not many people knew this but Elizabeth was an avid sketcher and quite skilled as well, but her mercurial temperament never allowed her to practice much and so she envied Georgiana her patience and diligence.

Mr. Darcy left them together, to go back to his papers no doubt, Elizabeth shook her head in exasperation as she observed him walk away towards the house. Unbeknownst to her, she had started to like spending time with him or maybe she always had. But this liking was just that, she had not stepped into the sphere that could be called the beginning of more tender feelings, for though she liked talking to him, she had not yet started to miss him.

"Elizabeth," Georgiana's soft voice brought her out of her thoughts.

"Yes Georgiana," she smiled at her upturned face, she was tall, but not as tall as Elizabeth but that was probably because she still had a few years left to grow.

"Do call me Gina, Elizabeth," she said enthusiastically.

"Of course, Gina," Elizabeth smiled again, "and you can also call me Lizzy, if you want to."

"But your name is too beautiful to be shortened," Georgiana said firmly, "I shall call you Elizabeth."

"What a beautiful day," Elizabeth said pleasantly as the trees thickened around them, "thank God the rain has stopped."

"I have been meaning to ask you something Elizabeth," Georgiana began hesitatingly and Elizabeth turned sharply towards her, "about George."

Elizabeth had debated many times with herself if she should tell Georgiana the truth about George's history with her, or should she spare her the pain such an account of a beloved brother would cause. She still felt undecided as the question stared her right in the eyes.

"Has Mr. Darcy not told you anything?" She asked carefully looking at her as their speed slowed down.

"We did talk about it at the inn on our way here," she frowned, "but he seemed so reluctant and so hurt that I did not have the heart to question him further." She then turned towards Elizabeth, "do not get me wrong Elizabeth, I do care about your pain as well, but you are more open than William. I thought that perhaps for that reason you shall be more forthcoming than him."

"I understand Gina," Elizabeth nodded and her fingers quickly smoothed Georgiana's frown as they halted at the centre of a grove, "and perhaps it would sound better coming from me, since I am more at the heart of the matter than Mr. Darcy."

"I do not understand why George would do it," Georgiana said in exasperation, "when he was so deeply attached to you."

"I would like to clarify one thing before I tell you the whole story," she sighed, "your brother was never in love with me."

"That is not possible, Elizabeth," she said earnestly, "I saw him go on and on about your charms and virtues. He truly was besotted with you."

"Being besotted does not necessarily mean being in love, Gina," she felt her anger building up once again at the thought of how it had all started, "you must understand that whatever George felt for me, had its roots buried in an emotion as petty and low as revenge."

"Revenge?" Georgiana cried, "what on Earth do you mean?"

"Come," Elizabeth guided her towards a bench located near by, "we must sit down and you must prepare yourself to hear some things about your brother that you might not like or believe, at first." Georgiana's expressions were so confused and scared that Elizabeth again wavered as to tell her everything or not. "Gina I shall only proceed if you promise to trust my words, for I shall definitely not risk losing you in case you do not believe me."

"Elizabeth you are scaring me," she caught Elizabeth's hand and said in a quivering voice.

"I shall promise to be careful about what I say," Elizabeth patted her hand affectionately, "but are you sure that you want to know everything?" Georgiana nodded and gave her a half smile. Elizabeth took a deep breath and braced herself for the narration of events she would much rather forget. "Tell me, what did you think of me and my behaviour towards your brother when we first met?" She asked looking carefully at Georgiana's face.

"I thought it odd," she admitted with a frown, "and not only the first time. I do not know much about love," she pursed her lips in slight embarrassment, " but It always seemed to me that you never behaved like a girl in love and sometimes you said things that seemed too harsh to be said to one's betrothed." She stopped for a while and they sat quietly as the birds chirped around them, "I once even asked George about it and he said the it was your way, that you liked to tease him." Elizabeth nodded lightly as Georgiana again fell silent. "But to be honest, I never spared much thought to it until George disappeared from the house on his wedding day. It was then that I started recalling all the details."

"We…he," Elizabeth took a deep breath and began again, "sometime after George came to Hertfordshire, I overheard him say something…err…rather…ahem…inappropriate about me…"

"Inappropriate," Georgiana looked at her with eyes narrowed in confusion, "how do you mean?"

"It hardly matters," Elizabeth shuddered anew in disgust at what he had said to Mr. Hurst in the billiards room. "Suffice to say that they were not meant to be heard by a gentlewoman, and I am surely not going to repeat his words to his sister." She observed the sudden paleness in Georgiana's skin but went on with her narrative regardless. It would do her well, perhaps even make her stronger to know the truth about her brother, "we had a fight about it afterwards, and my words and…err…actions during that argument angered your brother, too much it would seem for he decided to punish me for them."

Elizabeth's eyes strayed from Georgiana's blue orbs that had widened in suspense and dread.

"He…we," Elizabeth tried to calm herself as she worded her next statement carefully, "I do not know how to say this in any other way, but we were found in compromising circumstances soon after, and **made** to get engaged."

Georgiana's hands clasped on to her mouth as she gasped in shock and shook her head as if denying the possibility of such a circumstance to have occurred.

"I tried to convince my father that it was not my fault," Elizabeth looked up towards the leaves clapping in the low breeze, "that I did not want to marry George Darcy, but he had to think of the family's reputation and so I ended up being betrothed to the man I did not, nay could not love."

"And George did it on purpose?" Georgiana asked in a whisper. Remorse, astonishment and heartbreak written all over her face. Elizabeth nodded, wanting to close the chapter of George Darcy in her life forever. "How could he be so…so…oh no it is not possible," she cried in helplessness.

"You can believe me if you so choose," Elizabeth's voice grew cold despite her resolution of remaining indifferent to her reaction, but she had begun to look at the young girl as quite her own sister, and did not think that she shall be able to take the mistrust of another family member.

"I do," she cried vehemently as she grabbed Elizabeth's hand, "oh I do, but George is my brother, and he has been nothing but kind and loving towards me all his life. It is very hard for me to believe this of him."

"Perhaps," Elizabeth said dryly, "but look at what he did next. He had never intended to marry me at all. His letter to Mr. Darcy clearly implied that he did not want to marry me and that he had created the circumstances consciously that would leave Mr. Darcy and me no choice except to marry each other. If George cannot be sincere to his own blood, he certainly cannot be expected to remain faithful to me." Her speech became impassioned towards the end and Georgiana's eyes welled up.

"Poor William," she said dabbing at her eyes with her handkerchief, "always clearing up the messes that George creates."

Elizabeth did not know whether to be offended at her words or to take them as the sorrowful response of a sister who feels deeply for her brother. She remained quiet however, leaving the burden of further communication to Georgiana.

"Elizabeth," Georgiana suddenly grabbed her hand and squeezed it with fervour, "do not worry," she said earnestly, "you have lost nothing by losing George, in fact you have gained one of the kindest, most generous of men. William shall make you the happiest woman on this Earth, you shall never regret being his wife."

Though Elizabeth doubted the truth of her words, she was touched by the underlying sincerity all the same. She also felt gratified that Georgiana had not challenged her narration of the events outright, and the small amount of disbelief she had shown was all but natural, considering that George cannot have given his sister any reason to doubt him.

"I am sorry to be the bearer of bad news, Gina," she said sadly.

"I do admit to being surprised," Georgiana admitted, "but I had suspected something to be deeply amiss in the whole situation. My family never tells me anything that is disagreeable or grave in nature, because they try to shield me from any unpleasantness." Elizabeth kept looking at her wordlessly as she continued in a low, sorrowful voice, "and though the information you have just imparted is the kind that I would rather have lived without, I am still glad that you thought it right to make me aware of the reality behind it all."

"My intention was not to needlessly defame a brother in the eyes of his sister," Elizabeth said earnestly.

"Of course not," Georgiana gave her a soft yet sad smile, "I am not as oblivious to George's faults as you might think. Though I would never have thought them to be of this proportion."

"Do try to forget about it though," Elizabeth said getting up, "this topic is s source of great discomfort to me as I suspect it is to you as well. Let us not discuss this anymore." She gave Georgiana her hand and both of them walked back towards the house.

"I wonder where the Col. and Anne have got to," Elizabeth decided that a change of topic was best to avoid any lingering awkwardness.

"William is very angry at Richard for coming here," Georgiana told her.

"Whatever for?" Elizabeth felt surprised for she had thought Mr. Darcy and Col. Fitzwilliam to be quite close to each other, despite the difference in their temperaments.

"William says that it is not proper for a betrothed couple to stay under one roof," she said somewhat pensively, "Aunt Catherine would be absolutely livid when she finds out."

"I had not thought of it this way," Elizabeth said as she pondered the situation.

It was true that Anne and the Col. should not stay in the same house, but where else could he stay? And it must be his wish to stay near his betrothed during the period of their engagement. _'Oh well,'_ she shrugged her shoulders, _'Mr. Darcy would probably prove to be an excellent chaperone,_' she thought in amusement.

"What are they doing?" Georgiana asked in surprise and Elizabeth looked up to find a few workmen trying to hang a swing upon one of the branches of the old oak that spread high upon the stream.

"Oh Gina," Elizabeth's eyes shone, "your brother really is most generous."

She grabbed her hand and before long Anne joined them as well and together they watched the swing being hung and then took turns on it. Elizabeth felt thrilled and exalted, it was as though a piece of Longbourn had been transferred to Pemberley. The whole day passed pleasantly while they laughed and joked together at tea. Georgiana seemed sufficiently recovered as she played the pianoforte and Elizabeth felt relieved at disclosing everything to her. She looked around the parlour fondly as Col. Fitzwilliam teased Mr. Darcy and Anne laughed on. Elizabeth smiled, she could get used to this life.

* * *

She silently entered the library after dinner, just as Mr. Darcy had asked her to. Elizabeth looked around the empty library, Mr. Darcy had not come to the library yet. She quickly made her way to where the Bard's works lay and pulled 'Hamlet' out. Pemberley's library had her under a spell every time she ventured thither. Rows and rows of cabinets, full of books old and new, made her want to never come out of it. She opened the book and inhaled deeply, Elizabeth adored the scent of old paper.

"Elizabeth," Mr. Darcy's voice startled her from afar.

"Ow," she yelped as her nose got snapped between the book when she hastily closed it. She tried, in vain, not to blush as a strangled chuckle reached her ears, "you should not have scared me like this Mr. Darcy," she turned towards him with a frown, but his face had gone back to its usual state, that of no expressions.

"I did not think you were so weak hearted," he said from the entrance to the rotunda, his tall figure framed there as his head rested on the wall. He was not wearing his coat and looked rather dashing in his waistcoat. Elizabeth slowly approached him, her heart beat slowing down, at last.

"I love the smell of old paper," she said trying to change the subject from her nose, "this library is the most wonderful place in your house."

"Yes it is my own favourite as well," he agreed and led her towards the couch, "please have a seat, there is something I would like to show you."

Elizabeth sat down and looked curiously at the ornate box lying in front of her. It seemed like a jewelry box, but she could not be sure.

"Your wedding ring," he started as he gestured towards her hand, "as you know, was not chosen by me."

Elizabeth stiffened in unease. She knew well who had chosen it but she could not fathom the reason; was it only because it was ugly, or was there some history that she was unaware of? She looked up to find Mr. Darcy opening the box lying on the table. He unhinged it and then turned it towards her, it was neatly stacked with an array of rings. Elizabeth blinked, not knowing what she was supposed to do.

"If left to me," he continued after a moment, "I would never have chosen the ring that you currently wear." He eyed her ring with a frown, "but nor would I, perhaps, have chosen something to your taste, for I have no experience with selecting jewels for ladies."

"Have you never bought Georgiana anything then?" She asked in surprise as she took in his discomfort.

"She chooses and I pay," he said nonchalantly, "I have never had to make the choice myself."

"Oh," was all she could say. But she could not help feeling that he should have made the effort of getting to know the choice of his sister. _'These rich men rely too much on money,' _she thought.

"You can choose from this collection," he pushed the box towards her, "any ring that is to your liking."

"These are all beautiful," she said looking at the diamonds, the emeralds, the rubies and the jades. It certainly was an exquisite collection.

"These are all yours now," he told her earnestly, but she could detect a certain edge of unease in his voice, "they have belonged to various Darcy women in their time."

Elizabeth looked up to find his eyes moving from the rings to her face. _'You__ made a play for the second son with limited property and diminishing inheritance and ended up catching the first son who has much more to bestow upon you__.' _Unbidden, words from their wedding day crashed against her ears. Elizabeth felt crushed. Mr. Darcy probably thought her a greedy and grasping woman who would jump at a chance to get her hands on the beautiful Darcy jewels.

"I thank you, Mr. Darcy," her voice seemed tight to even her own ears, how her face appeared to him, she could only guess, "but I am perfectly content with the ring you gave me," she looked down at the yellow band, in the centre of which glittered a sapphire, hideous in its solitude. "I have no need to replace it."

"But it is…"

"Ugly?" She finished his sentence. "Yes, I know that it is hideous but I have grown attached to it." She sighed, _'and its ugliness never lets me forget the truth behind our marriage.'_

"Elizabeth," he looked at her oddly now, "please choose one anyway and wear it beside it."

"Please do not insist, Mr. Darcy," she said shaking her head to dissuade him as well as to rid her mind of unpleasant thoughts as she pushed the box away and closed its lid, and then suddenly her voice took on a teasing quality, "one must never insist." They smiled at each other and she was again struck by how different he looked when he smiled.

"Ever since you told me about Desiree," she turned towards him on the couch as she relaxed into its back, "I have wanted to know more. I do not understand why a husband, who loved his wife would give her something so ugly."

"Maybe he had very poor taste," Mr. Darcy shrugged his shoulders in an attempt to make light of it but Elizabeth wanted to know everything.

"You shall have to tell me Mr. Darcy," she warned as she raised her finger, "or I shall find his journal even if I have to tear down the house."

"You shall never be able to find it," he looked at her in amusement, "for nobody, even myself, knows where it is anymore. It got lost years ago."

"And what if I do?" She challenged in the flickering light of the many candles that lit the whole library, "would you allow the finder to remain the keeper as well?"

**"If **you find it," he mocked, "it is yours. Though I should tell you that the mistress of Pemberley should never read the private journal of a gentleman."

"Oh fie," she waved a hand as if to dismiss his statement, "thankfully I am neither the mistress of Pemberley nor such a stickler to propriety."

"Elizabeth," his tone of voice changed suddenly, "you **are **the mistress of Pemberley and therefore you shall have to be the soul of propriety as well."

Elizabeth sucked in a surprised breath. It was true, she was the mistress of this grand estate now and was expected to behave in a certain manner. Gone were the days when she could frolic around Longbourn and the woods surrounding it as a maiden, and though maiden she still was, she no longer was free to do as she pleased.

"I…I had not given the matter much thought, to be sure," her voice lost some of its perk as she observed a slight hardening of his features and the glint of steel in his eyes.

"That is what I had wanted to discuss with you," he said looking somewhat warily at her.

"And you decided to bribe me first," she gestured towards the rings, "I should tell you Mr. Darcy that you shall be forever unsuccessful at buying me," she teased him mercilessly as his colour mounted.

"I only sought to rid you of the monstrosity you have grown so attached to," he pointed towards the ring as he said sulkily.

"Come, Mr. Darcy," she giggled, "do let us forget about the ring and beginn my training as the mistress of Pemberley." Her voice remained laced with mischief as he became serious once again.

"My mother had almost two years to train herself for the role as that is how long my parents' engagement stood." He began and Elizabeth listened carefully to him, "but even had she not had that much of time, she would have managed to excel in her role as the mistress of such a grand estate, for she was born in a family where girls were constantly in training for that."

His tone wasn't offensive, far from it, but Elizabeth still felt slightly insulted. Was he implying that her background and upbringing had left her devoid of the suitability that was the chief criteria for the mistress of a grand estate? She could, indeed no one could, be held responsible for who they are born to, but Elizabeth could not even be held responsible for who she married. So why should she be held responsible for not being** trained** to run a house such as this?

"I am well aware that you had no time to prepare yourself even mentally, let alone practically for this role," Mr. Darcy continued in his speech regardless of Elizabeth's disturbance of mind, "but unwanted as it might be, this is your life now." He stopped for a moment, but Elizabeth sat still with her lips pursed, "you shall have to mould yourself for this part, perhaps…even change somewhat as well," he finished hesitantly.

"What do you mean, Mr. Darcy?" she looked up at him with blazing eyes but a calm voice, "pray, what have you seen in my behaviour that seems so inappropriate that you deem me unsuitable unless I change it?"

"You mistake my meaning," he replied hastily as he turned towards her, "there is nothing inappropriate or wanting in you. I only meant that whenever a woman marries, there is a certain amount of change that she inevitably has to go through to wholly embrace her new responsibilities."

"Why am I the only one who should be expected to change," she said archly as her eyes fairly scorched her husband, "should you also not make way for some kind of concession in order to make this marriage work?"

"Of course," he looked at her as though surprised at her sudden vehemence, "I am open to any kind of change that might be required of me, but you must concede that since a woman is the one who leaves everything behind to make a new life with a man, it is usually she, who has to make the greater transition."

"And what transition shall you have me make, Mr. Darcy?" She still looked crossly at him, "should I change the way I dress, or perhaps you find the way I speak offensive, or maybe it is my table manners that are wanting?"

"Elizabeth please," he suddenly got off from beside her and walked off to stare out the window at the darkening sky, "I am not trying to change you," he said in exasperation, "as it happens your dress, table manners and the way you speak are all beyond reproach. Why do you persist in misunderstanding me?" He suddenly turned around and looked at her with an eyebrow raised, "I thought we had an agreement on not to fight."

"An agreement that did not include any mention of me having to change in order to fit into the role of your house's mistress" she stood up and smoothed her hands over her gown, "could you elaborate a bit on your meaning?"

"I shall never forbid you to do as you please in this house," he stepped towards her, "I do not, however, believe in living in your own house as though you are a guest there." He said firmly, "you can of course, take things slow but sooner or later you shall have to assume the responsibilities that in the absence of a mistress, Mrs. Reynolds has been performing."

"I understand," she nodded, "and I shall do my best," she said dryly, not wanting to prolong the argument but still feeling somewhat miffed.

"What I meant when I said that you might have to change," he said standing directly opposite her, "was that responsibilities sometimes change people, or people sometimes have to change in order to carry those responsibilities out properly." He breathed deeply and then said looking directly into her eyes, "I know this from personal experience."

"What made you suddenly think of discussing this with me?" She abruptly asked, curious as to what could have brought this on. To her surprise, he blushed.

"I saw you on the swing," he said in a low hesitant voice.

"Are you trying to tell me," her eyes widened a little, "that I cannot…"

"Oh no," he quickly took her hand as he cut her sentence, "you can sit upon the swing all day long for all I care. It is just that…well…err…" He faltered and then did not say anything for a moment.

"What is it Mr. Darcy," she tugged at his hand that was holding hers, "do I look bad sitting upon the swing?" Elizabeth looked archly at him.

"No indeed." He responded quickly, "you look quite charming." It was Elizabeth's turn to blush then, even though she knew that he only said it to console her. "It is only that…you…well…when you took your shoes off…"

He again left the sentence unfinished and she finally understood. Mr. Darcy had seen her taking her shoes off and hiking up her skirts, and he probably thought it improper. She felt slightly perturbed, but she could not deny the justice of his uneasiness either.

"The cold water feels really good," she said sheepishly.

"Oh yes," he returned, "and you can indulge in this as much as you want to, given that there is no worker or gardener in the vicinity."

"Were there any, today?" She asked apprehensively. He nodded and she felt her face flush, she really was not in Longbourn anymore.

"I shall be careful from now on Mr. Darcy," she said earnestly, "but I do have the impulse to run at times, or to dip my feet in the water, or venture outside without my bonnet. I do not think that I can curb all these urges only because now I am the mistress of a grand house." She said firmly but tried to keep her tone inoffensive.

"Then you must not hold them back," he said firmly as well, as he pressed her hand gently, "only make sure that you do not have an audience."

"But there are always gardeners everywhere," she felt surprised at his easy acquiescence. Elizabeth had expected him to at least become cold and distant if not downright angry.

"Not in the evenings," he returned. It seemed as though her husband had the solution for and the answer to everything. She looked carefully at him; perhaps he did only want to ascertain that propriety was observed at all time and she was getting offended for no reason.

"What if someone is watching me from some secret point that I do not know of," she teased him lightly.

"There is no secret," he said unperturbed, "I watched you from here." He pointed towards the window he had been looking out of a few minutes ago, "and it is getting late now, let us go to our rooms." He brought her hand that he was already holding to rest in the crook of his arm as they proceeded towards the library door.

"I shall like to finish my book first," she stepped away from him.

"Here?" He asked in surprise and she nodded.

"Why?" She asked sardonically, "is that not allowed either?"

"I thought you had no taste or talent for sarcasm?" He folded his arms on his chest and eyed her with a twinkle in his eyes.

"Your memory is amazing as far as quoting me is concerned," she said undeterred, folding her arms on her chest in his imitation.

"An intelligent man always remembers his wife's sayings," he said with a hint of challenge in his tone, "so that…"

"He can use them against her later on?" She quickly finished his sentence. Mr. Darcy did not reply, he simply smiled in his self assured manner.

"Do not be too late," he turned towards the door and said as though he would to Georgiana, Elizabeth felt irked. "Good night," he said and then moved away and out the door.

She went towards the window and peeped outside. The swing was visible in the dim light of the night sky. She thought of what Charlotte had said to her at her wedding breakfast,

_"…do not be quick to fight and misunderstand, be instead, quick to forgive and value."_

Mr. Darcy had not exactly said anything unpleasant or insulting even, but his words had reminded her of the great difference between their lives. She sighed and came back to the couch and sat heavily upon it, he was right of course, perhaps people from his class followed the norms of propriety more strictly than a mere country girl like herself ever did. She had never cared for the things he mentioned before, not because she took observing proprieties lightly, but only because the thought of being careful about such seemingly trivial things had never crossed her mind.

But they had crossed Mr. Darcy's mind, and he was probably afraid that her mannerisms might reflect badly on him. She absentmindedly picked her book up and flipped the pages without paying much attention to what she was doing. One thing was for certain, she was not going to change herself. Not because she was stubborn by nature, only because she did not think it necessary for the mistress of Pemberley to stoic, grave and obliging in order to excel at her role, she could be lively, outgoing, warm and passionate about mundane things and still be a good manager of even a house as grand as Pemberley.

Elizabeth was determined to prove this to Mr. Darcy, and she would not let any chance of teasing him pass her by during the whole process. She smiled at the silliness of her thoughts and got up to leave for her room, opting for writing to Jane instead of reading. All her life she had shared even the minutes of details about the smallest of things with her older sister, and she was dying to acquaint her with all that had happened since her wedding and also to hear of what had been happening at her beloved home.

In the morning, however, as she stood by the swing, she felt ashamed of ever planning to put Mr. Darcy on edge. She bent down and traced her fingers on the wooden plank hanging near the swing as a proof of her husband's thoughtfulness and compassion. Her eyes glittered as her heart filled with gratitude for Mr. Darcy, gratitude and something else, something unidentified for now but profound nonetheless. Only two words were carved on it, two words that made her feel loved and cared for: Elizabeth's Swing.

**Chapter 20: All or Nothing**


	20. Chapter 20

**Chapter 20: All or Nothing**

"I take it that you approve," his voice came from her back and she turned around sharply with a glowing countenance. Mr. Darcy was standing right behind her, much closer than she would have expected.

"Approve of it?" She cried with zeal, as she further closed the gap between them by stepping away from the plank and towards him, "who would not approve of it. I am only astonished at such kindness from you."

"I am not so wholly devoid of everything good," he raised one sardonic eyebrow at her, "as you deem me to be."

"Right now Mr. Darcy," she tipped her head to a side and said rather impertinently, "my estimation of your good qualities is not under good regulation at all."

"Indeed," he chuckled softly, "so at last I have found the key to unlock your vocabulary on flattering words."

"And my collection is overflowing at this moment," she placed her hand on his arm and gripped it tightly.

"I am all ears," he teased as they stepped towards the plank. "The finish is not too detailed," he said in a disapproving tone as he bent down to examine the carving on the wood.

"I think it is perfect," she said quickly, "for I, thank God, am not a perfectionist like you. A too elaborately polished plank would have looked out of place in this natural setting. It is apt Mr. Darcy, now get up for you look ridiculous bent this way." She laughed needlessly as he straightened up to his full height and corrected his coat self consciously.

"Is that the vocabulary that you boasted of a moment ago?" He asked dryly.

"I did not know that you were so starved for appreciation," she batted her eyelashes at him and he shook his head in exasperation. "It was such a surprise, Mr. Darcy," she continued in the same pleased tone, "I had thought that you were doing this for Georgiana."

"From the moment you first mentioned that there should be a swing at Pemberley," he said seriously, "I knew that it was to be yours. Georgiana can share it with you, but it is **yours."**

She felt so delighted, so free, just like she used to feel when she was an unengaged woman at Longbourn. It was as though by giving her the swing, Mr. Darcy had restored some part of her past to her, a most cherished part.

"I thank you, Mr. Darcy." She looked up at him with gratitude in her eyes, "nothing, no precious jewelry or an expensive bit of apparel can ever match up to what you have just given me. A sense of ownership, as though even if not all, at least some part of this house is mine as well."

"Elizabeth," he said somewhat severely, "I hope you do not need the house named after you in order to call it your own."

"No," she bit her lip, "of course not, but…I…I do not feel completely comfortable here yet." She stopped and looked towards him to see how he was taking her words.

"Why not?" He asked in confusion, "have I not made you feel welcome here?"

"Oh you have been all kindness and hospitality," she was quick to reassure, "but I suppose some part of me simply cannot believe that we are married and I am the mistress of your home now. It seems surreal."

"Can it be because you are still struggling against your fate?" His eyes glinted in the sun that had now risen above them, something like sternness underlying his tone.

"Perhaps," she averted her eyes, "are you reconciled to it?" She asked as she stared at the chain of his pocket watch.

"I was reconciled to it the moment I realized that George would not be coming back for the wedding," he said gravely, "the sooner one comes to terms with their fate, the easier it is to surrender to it. Fighting against destiny is not only pointless but also harmful."

"I wish I had your rationality," she smiled up at him.

"It is perhaps the stubbornness in your nature that does not let you rest," he shrugged his shoulders, "you should try and divert yourself from morose thoughts."

"I do not indulge in morose thoughts," she said indignantly as a ghost of a smile appeared on his lips and then evaporated.

"See," he uttered triumphantly, "stubbornness. You have received a few cards from the neighbourhood families, I believe?" He looked questioningly at her and she nodded. "Have you had your card dropped as well?"

"I do not even know if I have a card," she shrugged her shoulders and Mr. Darcy frowned.

"You should start taking interest in these matters," he said sternly, "you have had enough time to come to terms with your new situation, now."

"A little over a week might be enough for you," she said dryly, "but it is far from being so for me."

"I shall not press you then," he turned away from her, disappointment written plainly on his face. "You can mourn the loss of your previous life as much and as long as you want, but I hope you would not require my company for that task," his voice became cold, "for I shall rather not indulge in such luxuries. Have a good day."

He walked away quickly, before Elizabeth could stop him and she saw his retreating back with regret. There was so much she had wanted to say to him, so much that she had wanted to ask and some things that she wished had been left unsaid. She walked to the swing and perched herself upon it, swinging lightly, her eyes still on Mr. Darcy's tall form.

He was right, in every instance. He was right to ask her to assume the responsibilities of the mistress, to return the calls, to reconcile. _'Oh how I hate it that he is right,'_ she smiled. He was correct that she was being needlessly stubborn, when he had been so kind and patient. She contemplated running after him for a moment and then chided herself for being so…so…_'so what?' _She did not have an answer to this small question, nor did she know what to name the discomfort she had felt at his displeasure.

She was almost tempted to splash her feet into the water in frustration, but restrained herself as she spotted a few gardeners lurking about. Elizabeth knew that Mr. Darcy must be thinking that she was incapable of managing the grand house and perhaps he was right too, for she simply had no idea how to go about it. If she had been a woman from the ton, her excuse of not knowing how to manage a house could have been her all consuming pursuit of learning how to play the harp, or the pianoforte or how to draw. But alas, she was only a country damsel, unaccomplished and ignorant.

She suddenly halted the swing; _'what am I thinking?' _She wondered in surprise. She was sure that everyone of Mr. Darcy's acquaintance must already be thinking on these lines and she was supposed to prove them wrong, not to agree with them. She decided to take Mr. Darcy's advice and go about the 'card businesses' whatever it was. Elizabeth decided to ask Anne for guidance in that matter and Mrs. Reynolds to learn how to manage the overwhelmingly large house.

She stepped away from the swing and looked around her, the beauty of Pemberley taking her breath away yet again. _'Yes,' _she thought with determination, _'I shall be the best mistress this house has ever seen.' _She was determined to both prove Mr. Darcy wrong and do him proud. The feelings were contradictory, but in the beginning, love usually is.

The next week was spent by Elizabeth in having her card dropped off at the few neighbourhood families that the Darcys interacted with. Very few calls were made by and to her, just as Anne said, for not many people were tactless enough to expect a call from a newly wedded couple, or to pay them a call.

Mr. Darcy had meanwhile continued to be distant and cold, spending most of his time in riding, scowling and glowering. Elizabeth tried to draw him out but his constant frown scared her away, besides she was having too much fun spending time with Mrs. Reynolds and learning about the management of the house. She could not believe the budget that was allocated to the kitchens alone and thought it somewhat extravagant. But Elizabeth did not mention it to anyone till she had ascertained that some of the things really were unnecessary and till she was sure that her opinion shall be taken into account by her husband.

Mrs. Bennet had always kept a good table, especially if company was to be expected, but at Pemberley every meal was treated as if company was expected. On some level, it rather irked Elizabeth who had simple tastes when it came to food, but she had seen the way Mr. Darcy and the Colonel ate. They seemed pretty insatiable and nothing on the table went without compliment, not to mention there were hardly any leftovers, ever. Therefore, extravagant or not, she could not say that such variety was needless, for the gentlemen clearly had a quite obvious **need **for it.

She also wondered at the number of footmen in the house and though it was fashionable to keep so many, it greatly reduced the privacy of the owners. But then again, she did not want to deprive anyone of their livelihood just so that she could skip up or hop down the stairs. She sighed and looked down the library window as Colonel Fitzwilliam tried to push Mr. Darcy into the stream, but managed only to get himself thrown in as Mr. Darcy stepped aside at the last moment. She burst out laughing, just like Georgiana and Anne who were taking turns at the swing before it grew dark. The wet Colonel came out of the water and said something waving his hand in the air and then walked back towards the house.

Elizabeth walked away towards the settee, took up her book and tried to concentrate, but the memories of her own family did not let her. Not even a day passed by when she did not think of Longbourn and its inhabitants. From Mrs. Bennet's shrieking over one thing or another to Mr. Bennet's indifference, from Jane's calm to Lydia's volubility and from Kitty's innocence to Mary's music; she recalled everything with clarity and fondness. She had received letters from Jane, Charlotte and Mrs. Gardiner, with the last two bearing a striking resemblance in content. Besides their love for her, both Mrs. Gardiner and Charlotte had written on how to be a good wife, whereas Jane had only dwelled on her love for Elizabeth and Mr. Bingley.

She smiled as she remembered the content of Jane's letter. It seemed as though Mrs. Bennet had been rather too apt at providing Mr. Bingley with oppourtunities to propose to Jane, and that had been so baffling to him that he had not, yet. Elizabeth decided that if Jane was to marry before Christmas then she would go to Hertfordshire before the marriage and spend it there, with her family, with Papa.

A knock on the door brought her out of her daydreams of having Christmas at Longbourn. It was a maid, informing her that dinner was served. Elizabeth got up and smoothed her hands over her gown, she had a mischievous smile on her lips and a naughty twinkle in her eyes. Elizabeth had decided to tease Mr. Darcy into talking to her and had a surprise planned for him.

"Elizabeth," Georgiana called out as soon as she entered the small dining parlour that was used when only family was home, "where have you been all day long?"

"I was having a chat with Mrs. Reynolds," she smiled and slid into the chair that the footman held for her, "did you have a nice day?" Elizabeth looked around and could see that the Colonel, though dry otherwise, still had wet hair. Her eyes twinkled as she remembered his fall.

"Oh splendid," Georgiana eyed her cousin with amusement, "you should have seen when Richard fell into the stream. It was priceless." She grinned and Anne hid her giggle behind a cough.

"Your husband is a cunning fellow, Mrs. Darcy," Colonel Fitzwilliam fumed as he eyed the _cunning fellow _with ire.

"Oh but it was more your folly than his shrewdness Colonel," she smiled at his petulance, "you should have guessed his next move."

"Elizabeth," Anne said in mild surprise, "were you watching from somewhere?"

"The rotunda," Elizabeth replied calmly as her eyes locked with Mr. Darcy's, "it is the perfect spot to keep an eye on the swing and the stream, or so I have been told."

"You have been ignoring us for a few days Elizabeth," Georgiana complained again as the fish was brought out, "do not tell me that Mrs. Reynolds is your new best friend."

"Mr. Darcy wanted me to take my responsibilities as the mistress of this house seriously," she looked towards him once again and saw him frown at the fish as Anne took some out in her plate.

"Oh Darcy wants everyone to take everything seriously," Colonel Fitzwilliam took a jab at him, "having fun is forbidden."

"Is this mackerel?" Darcy asked Mrs. Reynolds as she entered behind the footman carrying another dish.

"Yes, Mr. Darcy," she said and then motioned for the footman to start serving the other dish.

"You do know that I have an aversion to it," Darcy said in a calm voice but his countenance had become somewhat stern.

"Of course Mr. Darcy," she replied calmly, "that is why salmon has been prepared for you."

The footman stepped forward and offered him the second dish. Elizabeth could see that he was not pleased with this arrangement and would have preferred to have just salmon on the table instead of something he so wholly, according to Mrs. Reynolds, detested. She hid a smile at his petulance, Charlotte was right, he was used to have his every order obeyed.

"May I inquire why there was the need to have two kinds of fish when salmon would have suited everyone's tastes fine?" Mr. Darcy asked Mrs. Reynolds, still ignoring Elizabeth. She rolled her eyes, _'and I am the stubborn one.'_

"It was brought to my notice that it is a particular favourite of Colonel Fitzwilliam's," Mrs. Reynolds told him firmly.

"By whom?" Mr. Darcy asked is surprise.

"By me," Elizabeth looked directly at him. Their eyes clashed as Mr. Darcy's narrowed in displeasure. "Thank you Mrs. Reynolds, that will be all," she told the older woman sweetly and Mrs. Reynolds swept out of the room quietly.

"I must compliment the chef on this," Colonel Fitzwilliam said between mouthfuls, "it is too delicious."

"But you should also thank Elizabeth," Anne teased him, "for she is the one who thought of it first."

"Of course," he turned towards her and grabbed her hand suddenly, "you have my eternal gratefulness, Mrs. Darcy," he bowed over her hand reverently and then added, "this is by far the best meal I have had at Pemberley in a long time."

"You say that after every meal, Colonel." Elizabeth chuckled as she eased her hand out of his grasp, "but since today, I am responsible for this particular fish being served, therefore I shall accept your compliment."

Throughout dinner, Mr. Darcy remained silent, which was not unusual for him but the expression that he sported sure was. As the meal finished, everyone got up to rest for a while. Elizabeth quietly followed Mr. Darcy to his study and softly closed the door behind them. He turned around and looked questioningly at her.

"Are you angry?" She asked gently.

"Should I not be?" He returned gravely.

"No," she said firmly.

"You just proved me to be a host who thinks only of his own tastes," he accused in stern tones.

"I am sorry that you feel this way," she felt stung, but maintained her calm, "it was not my intention."

"Then what was your intention?" He walked towards his desk and stood by it in a forbidding posture, "why have two fish dishes when one would have been just as adequate, and would also have catered to everyone's taste?"

"Mr. Darcy your table is always rather loaded with different kinds of dishes," she remained unruffled, "only yesterday, at dinner, not only was lamb stew served, lamb chops were also provided. Although I do think that you keep a rather extravagant table, I did not hear you complaining about two lamb dishes being present. Why this sudden objection to two fish dishes?"

"Because it made me appear selfish where my own preference is concerned," he said hotly, "were you trying to show off for Mrs. Reynolds and my cousins, trying to prove how much more considerate you are as compared to me?"

Elizabeth blanched at the unjustness of his words, but she had promised herself that no matter what the provocation, she would not lose her temper. She took a deep calming breath and stepped towards him.

"I was trying to show off," she admitted with a slightly blushing countenance as he looked at her in surprise, "but not for Mrs. Reynolds, **for you."**

"For me?" he looked at her in deep astonishment.

"You asked me to take the responsibilities seriously, did you not?" She asked pointedly and he nodded but still looked confused, "I was only trying to prove to you that I was taking care of everyone's needs, especially Anne and Colonel Fitzwilliam's since they are our guests." She observed that his features had started to soften, "I was not trying to belittle you, only to demonstrate that I am in fact taking interest."

He remained quiet as he stared at her with his impassive yet intense gaze.

"I only thought that it is the duty of the mistress of a house to give priority to her guests tastes more than anyone else's," she said coolly and then stepped even closer, "in case you did not notice, I also took salmon, only to show solidarity with you." She teased in the end and his gaze, if possible, became even deeper.

"I am awaiting your verdict, Mr. Darcy," she bit her lip in discomfort under his intense scrutiny, "do you still think me deliberately trying to make you look bad in front of your staff and relatives?"

"Of course not," he smiled now, "besides it was only a pretense on my part."

"A pretense?" she looked at him in confusion.

"Well," he held out his hand for her to take and she quickly slipped hers into his, his hand was warm and his expression welcoming. Elizabeth followed him to the window seat as he gestured for her to sit first and then followed her. "It seems as though you wanted me to know that you are a good hostess and I wanted you to know how it feels when someone deliberately misunderstands you."

"What an educational experience a small dinner has turned out to be," she said dryly and his lips twitched, "so when you huffed and puffed about **two **kinds of fish being served, it was all an act?"

"Of course, Elizabeth," he looked slightly mischievous at that as his eyes twinkled, "I am seven and twenty years old, do you really think that I would make a hue and cry about something as insignificant as that?"

"I did," she eyed him sheepishly, "my aim was to tease you into talking to me."

"You do not need to tease me to make me talk to you," he shrugged his shoulders, "all you have to do is **talk **to me in order to talk to me." She laughed out loud and then peeped outside the window, it was getting dark.

"It is good to know that you are not as unapproachable as your formidable façade lets on," she turned her glittering eyes towards him and saw a frown appear on his forehead.

"Maintaining a good table is a home manager's duty," he uttered wryly, "but learning to read your husband's expression and understand his words is a wife's. I wonder when you would stop misinterpreting my meaning?"

His eyes had become slightly cold and Elizabeth did not want that. The past few days, without his company had been hard. She had often found her eyes straying towards him, desperately wanting a contact with his steely grey ones and now that the contact had been established, she was determined to hold it.

"You mentioned that in the beginning of the conversation as well, Mr. Darcy," she shifted in her seat, "when have I done this before?"

"Many times," he averted his eyes as his long fingers moved through his hair, slightly longer than when they had first met but just as dark.

"Tell me," unknowingly she slipped towards him on the cushions of the window seat as the corners of her eyes crinkled, "I insist."

"I do not want to ruin your mood," he said as he slipped closer as well till the distance of only a few inches remained between them, "this discussion is bound to lead to unpleasantness."

"Mr. Darcy I hope you know that I only behaved the way I did in the beginning of our marriage because my emotions were too raw and not in my control." She looked at him with a calm confidence, "I can handle a conversation without flying into a temper now." He nodded but averted his eyes again as he stared behind her shoulder at the darkening sky outside.

"One example would be when you thought I was belittling your father," he began hesitantly, "on the night of our wedding, when I was actually only praising your uncle."

"I…I understand that now," she blushed at the memory of her tantrum, turning her eyes towards the candles flickering in the distance, "but as I said, I was rather distraught then and was ready to take offense at the smallest possible provocation," she blinked at the light and then eyed him warily, "and in my defense, you were constantly providing me with it."

"I was only trying to defend myself," he said earnestly, "not to offend you."

Elizabeth nodded and then closed her eyes for a moment as unbidden words from the same night echoed in her ears, _'this whole situation could have been avoided if you had not had the audacity to rendezvous with my brother in the seclusion of a library.' _God knew how these words had haunted her. She wanted to give herself up to this new life, but those words held her back. How could she ever allow herself to be completely at ease with a man whose opinion of her was so low? It simply was not possible.

"What bothers you?" She felt a light warm touch on her hand and snatched it away quickly.

Elizabeth raised her eyes to Mr. Darcy's face and found him looking at her in confusion. She stood up in frustration and started to pace in front of him. It was the burden of his mistrust that bothered her for it was such a huge stumbling block that she was afraid she would never be able to forget it and live an ordinary life with him. It would never allow her to get past mundane talks and occasional walks with him, it would never allow her to be **his wife.**

"What is it Elizabeth?" She suddenly felt him behind her and her whole body tensed, "tell me," he said softly as his breath touched her ear and his tone became somewhat teasing, "I insist."

"You say that I have yet to know how to understand your moods, expressions and even words," she said coldly with her back still towards him, "but I am not the only one who lacks the ability to understand their spouse."

"I…yes, I have also been remiss in understanding your moods," his deep voice rose from behind her, "but not your expressions and words, for unlike me, you do have a command over what you say."

"But there is still a lot about me that you have misunderstood," she insisted as she turned around to face him.

"Perhaps I have," he conceded easily, "and I have a solution to remedy our misunderstandings and misinterpretations about each other's character and behaviour."

"I hardly think it possible for you to let go of your notions about my character and behaviour," she scoffed, "after all you have admitted yourself that you _do not believe in second chances_."

Elizabeth remembered his words from the Netherfield ball well when Mr. Darcy had told her that he found it difficult to forgive the vices in others. She was fairly certain that he still thought her just as culpable as George for what he had witnessed at Netherfield Park's library.

"But I am willing to make a concession in your case," he said firmly. "I am not as hardhearted and haughty as you give me credit for, dear wife," he mocked but Elizabeth's heart fluttered at his words, regardless of his tone. "You accused me of trying to alter you without making any compromises myself therefore here I am, trying to change," he stopped and looked straight into her eyes, "for you."

It was still insulting that he had thought her wanton, still a slight that he had believed her to be intentionally involved in his brother's game, still wounding that he had considered her a mercenary; but all was not lost yet, there was still hope. It was too much. It was something she never thought she would hear, never imagined happening, never even gave a passing thought to. He just said that he would reconsider his opinion of her. Mr. Darcy who never reconsidered his views once decided, was willing to make such a huge compromise **for her. **_'Well I never,' _she thought in awe as she stared at him dumbfounded.

"What you said in your study, on our wedding day…," she began to voice her doubts but he swiftly cut her.

"It was rude and crass of me to have voiced any of that," he uttered quickly, "and you must believe me that I would never have insulted you as such if…well…if you had not accused me of deliberately keeping you in the dark about our marriage."

"Yes," she said in confusion, "but you would not have said the things you did if you did not believe them to be true. Would you, Mr. Darcy?"

"Do you still think me proud, arrogant and conceited?" He asked her a question without satisfying her query and Elizabeth flushed pink at getting caught for she did still think him all of that. "I take it that you do," his voice became dry.

"But not as much as I first did," she clarified quickly.

"Neither do I." He told her earnestly, "both of us need time Elizabeth, and we also need to stop reliving the hurting words we have said to each other in the past, if we want to make any kind of progress in our marriage. Do you agree?"

"I do," she felt light, as though a burden had been removed from her heart.

"But I must warn you, there shall be no moving ahead in our relationship unless you do not rethink your opinion of me," he bent slightly towards her and said in a sterner tone of voice.

"And I would likewise warn you that there shall be no **relationship to move ahead in, **if you do not trust me," she bit back.

They stared at each other for a few moments in silence, his eyes trying to reassure, hers searching for hope and finally they smiled, at last understanding each other.

"Do not dare threaten me again," he folded his arms on his chest in mock displeasure.

"Such highhandedness," she teased.

"It is my experience in life that highhandedness comes in handy whilst dealing with stubbornness," his hand reached out to tuck a stray lock of hair behind her ear. She unconsciously stepped away from his touch, it was unnerving.

"I might have taken offense at being called stubborn when you just promised not to misunderstand me," she joked and half turned away from him to hide her embarrassment and unease at his closeness, "but I am too tired to argue anymore."

"That," he mocked, "I find hard to believe."

She turned towards him and rolled her eyes, "good night, Mr. Darcy."

"Good night," he bowed, "and Elizabeth," he called out before she could exit the study, "I am glad that you are handling your responsibilities so well."

"Flattery, Mr. Darcy?" She looked archly towards him, "you disappoint me."

Mr. Darcy crossed her to hold the door open for her.

"Nothing new in that," he murmured as she stepped out of the door.

"Mr. Darcy," she turned around before he could close the door, "you must admit that you were a little perturbed about the fish." Elizabeth could not help teasing him a little before retiring for the night.

"You forget madam," he replied with a heightened colour and a sterner tone, "no teasing after midnight," and firmly closed the door.

Elizabeth chuckled as she walked upstairs to her room, without going to have a chat with Georgiana as had become their custom. She had too much to puzzle over and ponder about, all relating to one person. She entered the room and for the first time since she had arrived at Pemberley, there was no maid waiting for her inside, perhaps because she had gotten tired of waiting. She went towards the dressing room and took out the most modest of her night gowns and walked back into the room closing the door behind her.

She wondered how many times she had misunderstood Mr. Darcy and how many times he had misunderstood her and it turned out that she was more prone to misjudging his words than he was hers. Elizabeth shrugged out of her gown and placed it upon the couch by the wall; the fact remained that even though he hardly ever misinterpreted her meaning, he was still under the wrong impression about her character, or about what happened at the Netherfield library, to be exact.

She pulled her night gown over her head and smoothed it over her body, her heart and mind at war about in what light she should take his words. She hardly knew if she should cling to the hurt that his mistrust had evoked in her on the day of her engagement to George, or should she give him another chance to redeem himself by coming to understand her. It was imperative that he understood that a woman of Elizabeth's high moral standards would never knowingly fall into the arms of a man like his brother.

Elizabeth quickly undid her hair and got into the bed without bothering to brush the tangles out first. Mr. Darcy had already started to soften towards her, to trust in her as far as managing the house was concerned, to make her as comfortable as possible in his home. He even went so far as to urge her to think of it as her own, if that was not a confirmation of his opinion increasingly inclining in her favour, she did not know what was.

And what of herself? She turned on her back, her arm folded under her head. Elizabeth's opinion had likewise started to soften. She did not think him half as proud as she initially did, a tad overbearing perhaps, but not arrogant or haughty. Was it possible that just like he was mistaken about her, she could also be mistaken about him? What if they were both wrong in their estimation of each other? Persisting in such erroneous estimation could only lead to disaster.

_'No,' _she pulled the covers close, _'I shall not cling on to the opinions that might endanger my future,' _she decided. Elizabeth made up her mind to give him a second chance, just like he was giving her. A small part of her was still and perhaps would always be hurt at being thought of as a wanton, but it would be easy to dispense of that part, once Mr. Darcy realized his mistake. And she was sure that he would, she was determined that he would. What fun it would be to gloat in front of him afterwards, she smiled and then became shocked at herself for doing so. Had she already moved on so far away from the agony of a month ago that now she could joke about it? Unbeknownst to herself, perhaps she had reconciled with her fate.

She moved a strand of hair away from her forehead and the memory of a long finger trailing her face from her forehead to her cheek as it tucked another strand of hair behind her ear made her eyes jerk open. She bit her lip, it had been…nice…_'oh who am I fooling?' _She thought in embarrassment. Mr. Darcy's touch, small as it had been had made her spine tingle, although why it should affect something that was so far away from where he had touched her, she could not understand.

Very soon she went to sleep, blissfully unaware of the first stirrings of the feeling called love. It was love that had made her proud heart make so many concessions for him, love that had convinced her to give him another chance and love that made her body tingle with something as insignificant as a mere trailing of a finger on her face. But she would not remain ignorant for long. Elizabeth did everything with immense passion, and that was how she was going to love also and the force of this love was bound to make her realize its existence, soon.

* * *

Darcy looked up sharply from the papers lying in front of him at the sound of a shriek that came from the stairs. It was Georgiana; he quickly got up and found her running down the steps and hastily entering the morning parlour. Darcy followed her there and opened the door slightly to find her trembling body within Elizabeth's embrace as she patted her back.

"There there, sweeeting," she consoled in soft tones, "what is it, what has gotten you into such a flurry?"

"Oh Elizabeth," Georgiana pulled away from her, "it was…terribly embarrassing."

"Do tell, Gina," Elizabeth looked pensively at her, "you are making me nervous. What has happened, is Futon all right?"

"Oh hang, Futon," Georgiana said in exasperation.

"That I most certainly shall not," Elizabeth chuckled, "no matter how much it tempts me by depositing all its fur on my lap." Darcy smiled but then his attention went to Georgiana again. The two girls seemed oblivious to his presence.

"Oh Elizabeth," Georgiana cried, "I just found Richard and Anne in a most scandalous situation." Darcy's face drained of all colour, this was exactly what he was afraid of. "He…Richard had," Georgiana hesitated for a moment and then quickly blurted out, "he had his hand down Anne's bodice."

"What?" Elizabeth and Darcy cried at the same time and then both Elizabeth and Georgiana turned sharply towards him and he saw their and felt his own face go crimson.

"Mr. Darcy," Elizabeth was the first to recover from the shock of him being a listener to Georgiana's remarkable revelation, "you should have made your presence known." She reprimanded severely, with a face still very much red.

"I apologize." He said dryly and then turned towards his wide-eyed Sister, "where did you find them, in Anne's room?"

"Oh no," she hung her head in mortification, "on the stairs."

Elizabeth's gasp was just as audible as Darcy's grunt. He could believe this of neither Richard nor Anne. What on Earth were they thinking, crossing all boundaries of propriety in the middle of the day in a place where any of the servants could see them?

"Gina!" Suddenly Richard burst through the door, "Gina what have…"

"Richard," Darcy jumped in front of him, blocking his further progress into the room, "I want you packed and on your way to wherever you want to go." He rasped, "within the hour."

"Darcy listen to me," he said in a worried manner, "it is all a big misunderstanding."

"Big or small," Darcy said firmly and remorselessly, "you are no more welcome into my house as long as Anne is a guest here."

"Come, man," Richard said in exasperation, "at least listen to what I have to say."

"Nothing you say is going to make me change my mind," he said stubbornly, fuming at his cousin's nerve.

"We can have this discussion later," Richard shook his head in exasperation and then turned towards Elizabeth, "Mrs. Darcy, Anne has developed some kind of rash on her…err…chest." Darcy could see Elizabeth's eyes widening and wanted to throttle Richard, "could you send someone to her, with some kind of remedy, a salve or something?"

"Yes, of course," Elizabeth responded quickly. "Gina, can you please tell Mrs. Reynolds to go to Anne? I shall be along in a few minutes." Georgiana nodded and then almost ran out of the room.

"Colonel Fitzwilliam," Elizabeth now turned towards Richard, "do you mind waiting in Mr. Darcy's study for a while? There is something I need to discuss with him."

Richard nodded and exited quickly. Darcy frowned at his wife, this was not a time for an argument and her face told him that she was not about to have a pleasant tête-à-tête with him.

"Mr. Darcy…," she began tentatively but Darcy cut her swiftly.

"Please Elizabeth," he held up a hand and said severely, "I shall not be moved from my decision."

"Nor am I going to make an attempt at such a task," she said dryly as well, "but do you not think that you are being too hasty?"

"Hasty?" He looked incredulously at her, "I think that I have been rather late. I should never have allowed Richard to stay here to begin with."

"And yet you did," she said calmly, taking a few steps towards him, "would you like to tell me why?"

"Is it not obvious?" He huffed, "I allowed him to stay because I trusted him."

"And what has happened to change that?" She asked again.

"Did you not hear Georgiana," he looked skeptically at her, "or would you like me to repeat it?" She blushed once again but kept looking at him in that calm manner, that had begun to irritate Darcy.

"I heard her," she said in a matter-of-fact manner, "but perhaps what she believed she saw was different from what actually happened."

"How do you mean?" Darcy scowled, not understanding what she was trying to say.

"Mr. Darcy do you remember our conversation at the entrance of Longbourn?" she said in a slightly less assertive voice now as her eyes got that strange far off look in them that she always did when they talked about her past.

"On the day of your…err…after the…umm…Netherfield Ball?" He asked haltingly, still very much uncomfortable with the topic.

"Yes," she nodded as she stood a few steps away from him and Darcy quietly removed the distance between them as if to console her. "On that day, you said that _you were not aware that anything can exceed the witness of one's own eyes in authenticity_."

"I remember," he said with a frown, "and you said that _sometimes there is, and it is the prior knowledge of a person's character_."

"Hm," she sighed and then continued again, looking straight into his eyes, "I do not know about you, but my acquaintance, small as it has been, has not yet shown me any aspect of Anne's personality that could convince me of her capability to submit to such behaviour."

Darcy felt stunned. She was right, of course she was right. Even if Richard, being a man, had succumbed to a moment of weakness, Anne would never have complied with his wishes in this matter and this manner. Elizabeth was still looking at him with her glowing eyes, asking him silently to understand.

"You did not know **me** well enough to disbelieve what your eyes saw," she eyed him warily as she continued, "but you have known your cousins all your life, can you really believe this of them?"

Something crashed on Darcy's head; Richard and Anne were forgotten quickly as he recalled the scene from Netherfield's library once again. _George was holding Elizabeth close, pressed to himself as she threw back her head…_ Darcy frowned, he had assumed on that night that she had thrown back her head to allow him access to her neck, but could there be some other reason? He stared at her as she stared back and wondered if she was trying to tell him something, he wondered if he had been wrong, he wondered if there was more to that whole scene than what had met the eye?

"Elizabeth," he took her hand in his, "I…am I wrong about the whole business?"

"Perhaps," she pressed his fingers with hers, "therefore you should at least listen to the Colonel."

_'The Colonel?' _Darcy scowled. He had not asked her about Richard, he had asked her about George. He looked carefully at her as she smiled consolingly at him. She was not even thinking about that day anymore, her mind was only on Anne and Richard. Darcy took a deep breath and left her hand as he walked to a window. He stared outside at the bright morning sun to clear his head of all the confusing questions. _'Yes,' _he decided,_ 'there is definitely more to that night than what I saw.' _He took a deep breath and decided to come back and contemplate everything a bit in more detail, later. Right now he had to deal with Richard.

He turned around and saw her cautiously watching him.

"Richard must leave," he said firmly.

"If you think it right, he must," she agreed, "but do hear him out first."

"No," he suddenly felt angry but was not sure if his anger was at Richard for what he did or at himself for not knowing the truth of his wife's past, "I am the master of this house and only the person I deem proper shall stay here."

"And I am the mistress of this house," for the first time that day, and in many days in fact, he saw her eyes flash indignantly at him as her colour mounted, "and no one shall be turned out of **my house** in disgrace until they have had a chance to defend themselves."

Darcy's eyes bored down on her as hers blazed up at him. Gradually and indisputably, Elizabeth had first taken charge of the house, then of the situation and now of the decision as well, and Darcy felt overwhelmingly charmed by her authoritativeness. As his gaze lingered on her frowning face, his own frown disappeared and he bit his lips to stop them from smiling.

"No one orders me around, madam," he pursed his lips.

"Well perhaps that is the problem," she folded her arms on her chest, "you have been allowed to have your way for too long."

"And you think that you can control me?" He raised an eyebrow at her.

"No," she had probably guessed the lightening of his mood, for she threw her pearly smile at him, the one he had always found hard to resist, "but I might just **tame** you."

"You presume too much," he smiled.

"Yes," she sighed, "now go to the Colonel and do not glare at him please."

Darcy nodded and went to his study where Richard was pacing frantically around the room. He closed the door and looked towards his older cousin thoughtfully, his ire from a few minutes ago completely vanished.

"What do you have to say for yourself?" He kept his post by the door as he asked Richard.

"Oh Darcy," he turned sharply around and looked warily at Darcy, "so you have decided to listen to me, at last. What made you change your mind?"

"Come to the point," Darcy's tone started to become stern once again. He had decided to send Richard away until the Barringtons or Lady Catherine came, as with more company at home at least his presence would not be that much of an impropriety as it was now.

"She had an insect of some sort down…err…there," he said haltingly, "the girl was screeching for God's sake, I was only trying to put her out of her misery."

Darcy felt greatly relieved and a bit tickled by Richard's explanation, to be fair, it was rather hilarious. He walked towards his desk in order to mask his smile but a chuckle escaped his throat regardless.

"It is not a laughing matter," Richard growled.

"Off-c-coursse n-not," Darcy said between laughter, "if she had not developed a rash I might have thought that you were spinning another one of your banbury stories."

"So, do you still want me out of your house?"

"For now, yes," Darcy sobered up and faced his cousin squarely, "you can return later. Perhaps when Aunt Catherine comes for the wedding."

"A bit harsh, do you not think?" Richard threw down his head, clearly unhappy with the situation but concurring nonetheless.

"I should never have allowed you to stay here in the first place," Darcy shrugged and moved to sit on the sofa, "you are solely responsible for bringing me to point non plus."

"You have to let me come before the dragon," Richard wailed and Darcy frowned at him, "she will definitely make Anne's life miserable as soon as she arrives. Let her have some time alone with me before that."

"You have a lifetime to be alone with her," Darcy said in irritation.

"But these are precious days," Richard argued, "just because you did not get the chance or have the inclination for such frivolities," he said mischievously, "does not mean that we are all beef witted like you."

"Go and pack," Darcy scowled, "I have heard enough of your bag of moonshine," he nudged his head to a side, "time is running, make haste."

Richard huffed and stalked out of the room. Darcy took a deep breath and closed his eyes. The matter of the…err…inappropriate by mistake betrotheds solved, his mind had quickly jumped back to the dialogue he had just had with his lovely wife. Perhaps lovely was not the right word to describe her, he opened his eyes and pictured Elizabeth. _'No,' _he thought, _'she is definitely not lovely, more like charming without being exactly beautiful.' _Suddenly his eyes widened, _'get a grip, man,' _he chided himself. He was supposed to ponder her innocence not her beauty.

_'Lord,' _he groaned and sat up straight. It would have been far easier to be unbiased if he was not so completely enchanted by her. But he had started to see her in a new light gradually. Every day seemed to bring something to light that made him doubt all that he had previously thought about Elizabeth. It was true that she was in the library with George, it was true that he had been kissing her and that she was allowing him to do so could also not be denied. _'The woman was clutching George's coat for dear life,' _he slammed his hand on the polished mahogany surface of the table, _'and yet she expects me to trust her.'_

It was an odd expectation, in a woman as sensible as Elizabeth. Everything implicated her to be involved with his brother, and yet not only her words but also her actions later on, belied that fact. Darcy got up and started pacing around the room, very much like his cousin had done a few minutes ago. He had never actually seen Elizabeth being loving, or even kind towards his brother, even though she and George had been in company constantly after their engagement. He had never seen her laugh with him, or try to get his attention, in fact she had always tried to steer clear of George, mostly sticking with Georgiana or Mrs. Gardiner. That was not the established behaviour of a woman who had just managed to ensnare an eligible husband, it was the exact opposite of what she should have done.

His mind went round and round about her behaviour during the brief period of engagement between her and George, and he was struck with his own imperceptiveness in the matter. _'Why had I not noticed this before?' _He thought as he dropped down on the sofa. It was obvious to him now that he was missing some crucial piece of the puzzle that was Elizabeth, crucial to his sanity and to his happiness.

* * *

"…but somehow I cannot find myself warming up to either Othello or Desdemona," he was jolted out of his earnest perusal of a book on the Tudor history by Elizabeth's voice that held an obvious amount of irritation in it.

Darcy looked up to find Elizabeth and Anne playing a game of cards as they talked, oblivious to his presence. He looked carefully at Anne, who was wearing a rather high necked evening gown, but looked recovered otherwise. It had been raining again and Georgiana had retired early on the plea of a headache, which he knew to be a lie for a package containing Mrs. Broadhurst's latest novel had arrived that morning from Torquay for her. Darcy was sure that her headache would only last until she had opened the book.

"You shock me Elizabeth," Anne frowned at her as she threw down a card that Elizabeth eyed with distaste, "Othello is only one of the most romantic figures in all of the Bard's works." Anne had been more quiet than usual after Richard's hasty departure, but Elizabeth had at last been successful in drawing her out.

"And Desdemona the most tragic," she said sardonically and Darcy shook his head wondering what Elizabeth could have found to disagree with in the personality of Desdemona, one of his personal favourite heroines of all time.

"How can you talk of her with contempt, Elizabeth," Anne cried with fervour, _"O fie upon thee slanderer,"_ she quoted Desdemona herself. Darcy smiled, but kept his eyes upon the book.

"Because, perhaps I do not understand her submissiveness in the face of Othello's slights," Elizabeth's voice rose in the silent room.

"She was far from submissive," Anne huffed. Darcy stole a glance at the arguing duo, apparently the cards laid forgotten on the table and in their hands. "I hope you have not forgotten how valiantly she defended her lover to her father."

"No, I have not," Elizabeth said firmly, "but nor have I forgotten how she silently bore the same husband's false accusations. No lover of mine would remain so if he ever dared to slap me because of his own insecurities." Her voice suddenly became passionate, drawing Darcy's eyes to her face once again.

Those were powerful words, and her expression was determined.

"Because she **loved **him," he spoke up.

Both Anne and Elizabeth jumped and then turned towards where he sat by the window, casually sipping his tea and _pretending_ to read his book.

"Love?" Elizabeth mocked, "what good is love of it comes at the cost of one's self-respect?"

"You would not understand love, Elizabeth," Anne's voice was teasing as she uttered the next words, "for you have never experienced it."

"True," Elizabeth shrugged her shoulders, "but if love means staying with a man who would rather believe an acquaintance over his own knowledge of his wife, than I would prefer not to know the feeling."

"In Othello's defense," Darcy chimed in again, "Iago really did produce a convincing amount of evidence."

"Only with the handkerchief," Elizabeth slammed her cards down on the table as she turned completely towards him, "but what proof did Othello have before that, except Iago's words, which he chose to believe over his wife's innocence?"

"Do you have a problem with Othello's mistrust of Desdemona or her acceptance of it as such?" He raised an eyebrow at her as he placed his book on the table beside him.

"Both," she said fervently, "but more with the latter. Where did the tenacious creature, who stood up to her own father, go? She should have stood up for herself as well when Othello insulted her in front of guests."

"We cannot always control such situations," Darcy looked straight into her eyes, "you would not have to go far for a real life example."

She glared at him and Darcy heard a discrete "good night" as Anne quietly and tactfully exited the room. Darcy got up and walked over to her.

"Our situation is not very different from theirs," he said as he took the seat Anne had vacated, "do you not think?"

"Perhaps," she nodded as she stared at her hands, "but unlike Desdemona, I **have** submitted to the will of my father, but I would not be putting up with any disrespect from my lover." Her voice became hard, determined.

"I am going to repeat Anne's words to you," he said pointedly, "you say that because you are not in love with anyone yet."

"Perhaps," she looked him squarely in the eyes, "but nor will I be developing any feelings for someone who does not show me the respect that I deserve."

"Do you think that the feelings of love can be governed?" He said in surprise, "one hardly ever thinks of anything else, be it respect or trust when one falls in love."

"I disagree," she said firmly as she started to gather all the cards on the table, "no one falls in love with a person without knowing anything about them. We can respect many a person without actually loving them, but we cannot love a person without respecting them first. How can we love a person that we do not trust, that we do not know how to talk to, who bores us to death? No, Mr. Darcy, to me love is a feeling that encompasses a lot of other feelings as well."

"So you want to be both loved and respected?" he took the cards from her and started to shuffle them in agitation, the argument was not going the way he had thought it would.

"I would rather be respected and trusted but not loved, than the other way around," her tone was unyielding as her eyes shone at him, "if a person cannot esteem me the way he ought, than I would rather have nothing from him."

"You demand too much from you **lover," **he teased but she remained serious.

"It would not be a demand if he truly loved me," she said with a far off look in her eyes, "trust, respect, companionship and understanding would follow without having to make an effort. But yes I am rather fastidious in that respect," she turned her eyes towards him and he could see that they glowed with the fire that he had come to associate with her, "I want it **all or nothing."**

Elizabeth had said something of the sort to him on their first meeting as well, he looked thoughtfully at her. She seemed firm in her assertion of not accepting anything from **her lover, **if he could not give her everything that she wanted, respect and trust being top of her list.

"But what if, like Desdemona," something was urging him to continue the argument until he knew what she really wanted from a man, "you fall in love first and **then** find out that he does not trust you? What if your lover gives you everything, love, understanding, companionship, security but not trust? Would you still accept nothing from him?"

"No," her voice was firm, her eyes hard as they sparkled at him, "for what kind of a relationship would it be if he doubts my every move, if he becomes restless when he does not know what I am doing, if he does not believe a single word that I utter? Why punish us both with something so unwholesome?"

"Why indeed?" Darcy said in mild annoyance as he shuffled the cards with speed and in agitation, "why live with such a man at all?"

"A valid point Mr. Darcy," she smiled at him in a self-assured manner, "if faced with such a situation, it would be much better to part ways, than to keep on bearing the torture of your lover's mistrust."

"I think you are being unreasonable," he stood up irritably, throwing the cards back on the table as they slid on its surface, "love does not need to be so difficult."

"Everyone has a different view of love, I suppose.," she said nonchalantly, her fit of passion apparently over. "We do not have to concur on everything, indeed we hardly do," her voice became light and teasing once again.

"Why?" He did not understand his own frustration as he turned around and looked at her bewildered expression.

She got up and took two steps towards him, placing her hand on his arm, it felt soothing.

"Are you worried about something?" She asked him gently, her countenance completely transformed from the fiery expression of a few moments ago.

"No," he denied. How could he tell her that he was on edge because of her statements and his own thoughts after hearing them?

"You can tell me," she smiled soothingly.

"It is nothing," he looked at her beautiful face and his hand rose of its own accord, but changed course midway and settled for her hand that lay on his arm.

"Let us have a fresh cup of tea then," she pulled him back towards the card table, "and a fresh game of cards as well."

He obliged, as he allowed her to drag him back towards the table. She made tea again and he looked carefully at her as he sipped it, trying to understand her.

"I still think that your stance is rather a harsh one," he eyed her sternly as she stirred sugar in her cup.

"Do not worry Mr. Darcy," she smiled impishly at him, "me and my lover shall resolve it amicably between us."

"I suppose now would be the right time to remind you that the only lover you shall ever have," he placed his cards on the table as he glared at her from above the rim of his cup, **"is me."**

Elizabeth looked up sharply as she stared at him and gulped and then stared some more. Darcy held her gaze as a million things circled his mind, the most prominent of which was, _'did I just say this out loud?' _Elizabeth had always had a ready answer to whatever he had thrown her way, this was the first time that she had become speechless at what he had said. She looked at him for a long moment, a startled expression in her eyes and Darcy understood the reason of her surprise: for a brief period of time she had forgotten that they were married and his words had reminded her of that. And as soon as that reality hit her, her eyes fell down to her cards as a faint pink tinged her cheeks.

The night wore on and she kept on talking about Othello and Desdemona and how her favourite character from the play was Iago, for he knew what he wanted and went after it. Darcy, on the other hand, kept losing to her, for his attention was more on her words from before than now. She wanted to be trusted, expected to be believed, demanded **all or would have nothing. **She dimpled at yet another win, and Darcy frowned in confusion, he obviously needed a stiff drink to clear his head or perhaps to befuddle it even more. Elizabeth yawned and stood up, Darcy watched her leave the room, her steps measured her walk graceful.

He threw his head on his hands, what kind of web was she weaving around him? She was not a pretender, she was as real as the very heart that was beating forcefully in his chest. Every word that she had said held meaning, she would not have him till he believed her, trusted her, respected her. He raised his head and walked towards the window, the rain was still coming hard. He touched the cold window glass; the question was, will he be able to give her **all **that she demanded or will she leave him with **nothing?**

**Next Chapter: An Old Flame**


	21. Chapter 21

**A/N: **I would like to thank f. wentworth for pointing out that the word Futon was probably not used in England in the early 19th century. Therefore from now on Georgiana's kitten's name is going to be Buttons.

Many thanks for all your wonderful reviews and for bearing with the slow pace of the story. Your response is what keeps me going.

**Chapter 21: An Old Flame**

Darcy was combing his hair when he noticed a commotion on the balcony of his room. He curiously walked towards the door and opened it to find two maids laying breakfast on a small table which was not there before. His eyes traveled further, and he saw Elizabeth sitting on a bench as she toyed with her wet hair, she was wearing a house coat that completely hid whatever she wore underneath. _'If anything at all,' _his thoughts slipped out of his control and he pulled them back firmly as the maids curtsied and went in through the door leading to the mistress's chambers.

"Good morning," he said and Elizabeth quickly turned towards him.

"Good morning, Mr. Darcy," she smiled her beautiful smile and warmth spread through the cold air of early morning.

He stepped onto the terrace as she got up from the bench and they both cautiously approached each other.

"Georgiana told me that your mother used to take her evening tea here at the balcony," she began tentatively as they paused a step away from each other, "and I thought why not emulate her, though for a different meal."

"Brilliant," he said looking towards the table. "I see that the table is laid out for one person only," Darcy raised an eyebrow at her and she blushed.

"I did not think that you will be interested," she said hesitantly but then quickly added, "but you are more than welcome to join me if you so want, there are extra plates here."

"Of course," he nodded and then frowned, "but who shall serve us?"

Elizabeth rolled her eyes.

"Poor Mr. Darcy, cannot even serve himself breakfast," she teased and Darcy scowled. "I shall serve you my lord," Elizabeth mocked and then quickly stepped towards his chair and held it open for him.

"I have very strict norms for how a breakfast is to be served," he teased her back as she stepped towards her own chair, "and where do you think you are going, without adjusting my napkin first."

Elizabeth whirled around and stared at him with wide eyes that quickly narrowed as she returned to his side.

"And where should I place your napkin," she asked in an offended tone, "in your lap?"

Darcy blushed despite himself; it would not do for Elizabeth to reach that far down. He cleared his throat needlessly as he held the napkin out for her and pointed towards his neck. Elizabeth bent over him and pushed it down his collar unceremoniously.

"You need to practice your napkin adjusting skills," he coughed as he looked up into her eyes, flashing beautifully in the daylight.

"And you need to practice how to stop ordering everyone around," she huffed, turned around and sat down on her seat at last.

"Well, and who shall butter my toast?" he kept a grave countenance when a chuckle was about to burst through him anytime now.

"Of course, I shall," she suddenly gave him a sweet smile. Darcy blinked. "But only if you butter mine as well." Her gaze held challenge and Darcy accepted gracefully and then proceeded to spread the jam on it even more liberally than he had seen Elizabeth do herself. In fact he almost emptied the whole bottle on a single slice of bread and then handed it to her with an impassive expression.

"Tea?" She reached for the pot and raised an eyebrow at him after taking a bite of the jam laden bread and as expected, some of it got stuck to the corner of her mouth, as usual. He nodded.

"It reminds me of my trip to Italy," he sipped his tea and tried not to stare at her lips. "The inn we stayed at in Florence had a balcony quite like this one."

"So you have been to Italy?" She slowly stirred the sugar in her tea, "how envious I am of you right now," she dimpled at him, "were you alone?"

"No," he shook his head, "I went with the Colliers and the Barringtons."

It had been a most wonderful trip. He and George had gone on a much needed vacation, a year after their father's death with their aunt's family and the Barringtons. His mind drifted towards Lady Felicity, as she was then, a lithe twenty year old who did not attract him by any air of address or person. It had been later, much later, that he had discovered the charm of both her person and conversation. He sipped his tea and tried to picture sitting on the balcony with Lady Felicity instead of Elizabeth.

"Tell me about Florence?" Elizabeth asked enthusiastically, "is it really as charming as everyone says it is?"

Darcy looked at her deeply as she sat in front of him in an olive coloured housecoat, her eyes bright, her face flushed. Lady Felicity would never have asked him about Florence with such enthusiasm for two reasons; the first was because she had been there herself and the second, because though lively enough, she did not have Elizabeth's spirit. And so he would never have had the chance to show off his knowledge in front of her. It oddly pleased him that there was something that his opinionated wife did not know about and he could enlighten her; indeed, being married to Elizabeth was not such a bad thing after all. He almost laughed out loud at his childish thoughts.

"What would you like to know?" He asked pleasantly as he extended his arm towards the teapot.

"Umm," she pondered for a moment, "what did you like best there?"

"River Arno," he picked up his tea cup and went to stand by the railing, "I used to stand on the old bridge, Ponte Vecchio, for hours thinking about one thing or another."

"Is it the river that cuts across the old part of the city?" Elizabeth also came to stand near him. He turned towards her, she smelled different that day, not the usual orange blossoms, perhaps it was vanilla from her hair.

"Yes," he turned his eyes back towards the stream that cut across Pemberley, "the river has been both a blessing and a hazard for Florentines, for it both nourished the city and flooded it as well."

"Similar to people," she mused in a low voice, "no one is perfect, every one has both flaws and good qualities."

For a while both of them stood there, trapped in the tortured thoughts of their minds. Darcy remembered how he had missed both his parents while roaming the streets of Florence, especially his father whose death was still new at that time. He wondered if he would feel any different if he ever went there again, if he would visit the same places with the same thoughts on his mind and the same considerations in his heart?

"Were you sad there?" Elizabeth asked and he turned sharply towards her.

She was looking up at him with a certain soft look about her eyes, as though she really cared about his answer. He felt vulnerable, was he so easily read? Darcy had carefully cultivated the air of inapproachability around himself because he hated it when people found out what was on his mind. This was the second time that Elizabeth had rightly guessed that he was thinking about something that saddened him, and he did not want there to be a third. He did not want her to peep at his soul and then turn away because she did not like what she saw, that would be too painful.

"You have a bit of jam here," he pointed towards his own lips in an attempt to change the topic.

For a moment she said nothing and simply looked up at him, he knew that she was trying to decipher his mood, but he had carefully schooled his features into indifference.

"It is because you put two bottles, at least, onto one slice," she said at last and thankfully in a light manner.

"And whose fault is it everyday," he narrowed his eyes at her playful countenance, "because the jam is always a fixture on your lips at this time of the day."

Darcy knew well, he remembered everyday on which she had the jam sticking to the corner of her mouth for it had been a torture to him. He alone knew how difficult it was for him to get the picture of her lips out of his head.

"I have observed you staring at my mouth whenever it sticks there," her eyes narrowed slightly as well, "why do _you_mind?"

"Because it gets on my nerves," Darcy suddenly felt frustrated because his fingers were itching to remove it, which he knew was wrong but could not help imagining it either.

"I do not know about the other days," she huffed, "but if today your nerves are in disorder, it is your own fault."

Elizabeth turned around but Darcy was quicker, before she reached the table Darcy had grabbed a napkin and before he knew what he was doing he had tipped her chin upwards with his other hand.

"What…" she began but Darcy cut her short.

"If it is my fault," he brought the napkin to her lips, "then I shall correct it as well."

He slowly wiped the jam clear but kept rubbing the napkin on her lips to clean whatever stickiness remained, or at least that was what he told himself. He retreated the hand that held the napkin afterwards but kept on holding her chin. It was the first time that he had touched any part of her face, her skin was soft as his thumb moved below her lips. His fingers throbbed where they were touching her, every sense heightened, every pulse pounding. Elizabeth looked at him in confusion as her lips parted.

"Do I have it on my chin as well?" She asked as she finally pushed his hand away and felt her face for the remnants of the jam.

"No," he stepped back, "all clear."

"I have to go and talk to Mrs. Reynolds about Mr. Edmund Darcy's lunch." She sensed some change in him perhaps, for she backed up as well, "excuse me."

And then she left and he just stood there, not knowing what had happened in those few magical moments as he rubbed his thumb on his fingers slowly, as if to recall the softness they had touched a few moments ago.

* * *

Darcy sped Hermes faster and faster as he rode to some unknown destination. He had skipped breakfast that day and his stomach grumbled rather loudly amidst all the noise of the horse's hooves. True to her words, Elizabeth had made the breakfast on the balcony a routine and by taking it with her on the first day, Darcy was now left with no choice but to keep on doing so.

He could not stop himself from telling her that if she curtailed the amount of jam, she would look better having breakfast, which was a lie for she looked rather appealing with it as well. Elizabeth had called him fastidious and advised him in turn to stop thinking of proprieties so much and start taking joy in the smaller things of life. Darcy had called her view impractical and they had had an argument after which he had decided to skip breakfast the next day.

He did not mind the breakfast so much, in fact he quite enjoyed it. Everything became interesting when Elizabeth was a companion, her extraordinary views and sometimes unreasonable arguments amused him to no end. But there were other things about her that had started to disturb his peace. He did not know when, but the desire to know Elizabeth fully had slowly taken root in his heart along with the desire to know what kind of relationship she had with his brother. The more he saw her, the more he thought of George.

Darcy suddenly felt tired of riding, it felt as though he was running away from something. He turned his horse around and saw the very place where he had taken a fall many years ago while riding with George. He had helped Darcy to get back on his horse and had led both the horses all the way back to Pemberley on foot. He had been an affectionate if a bit selfish brother back then. Darcy wondered where that George had disappeared to as Hermes trotted back towards his home, a home where his wife was probably busy planning a lunch for his relatives.

As he approached nearer Pemberley, his mind went back to whether he would ever be able to look at Elizabeth as only his wife and not his brother's jilted betrothed. Such thoughts gave rise to another train of thought that he had found himself following a lot lately: if Elizabeth did not want to marry George, what was she doing in the library with him? Could George be blackmailing her? But what about?

_'Oh this is hopeless,' _he jumped off his horse and handed the reins to the stable boy. Darcy quickly ran up the steps to the house and entered his study, only to find it already occupied by Elizabeth and Mrs. Reynolds. They were having a discussion as Mrs. Reynolds jotted some things down on a paper.

"Mr. Darcy," Elizabeth looked up at him and narrowed her eyes in dismay, "I thought you would not be coming home for another hour or so, yet."

"I finished my ride earlier than usual today," he said dryly, impatient for solitude.

"Your study seemed like a nice place for making dinner plans," she said sheepishly.

"Indeed," he was beyond irked. His study was his alone and he did not like any intruders there, even if they did look quite charming in a blue muslin frock…_'oh darn,' _he cursed inside. His thoughts had once again betrayed him.

Elizabeth stood up with Mrs. Reynolds in tow.

"Mrs. Reynolds," she turned towards the housekeeper, "can you meet me in the morning parlour with the cook in about a quarter of an hour? We still have a lot to go over."

"Of course, Mrs. Darcy," she said respectfully and then quickly exited the room.

"I never thought having guests for lunch can be so much work," she smiled at him as soon as Mrs. Reynolds shut the door behind her. "The menu has to be decided, the flowers to be picked, the cutlery to be polished and the footmen to be scolded." He looked up and found her eyes twinkling as she looked down at a paper in her hands, thoroughly amused.

Darcy felt like a caged animal and she was the bars all around him. _'Why is she not leaving me alone?' _He cried inside as she went on and on about the upcoming lunch. Darcy backed up a bit and rested against the large mahogany desk with arms folded upon his chest, while Elizabeth debated if lamb stew was more appropriate than beef stew, or if she should ask the cook to prepare pudding instead of custard.

He could feel his breath hitching and his blood boiled in unspent frustration. She had come into his life uninvited and was now invading it from all sides. He should be hating this, he should be hating her, but no; all he could think of was the fragrance that lingered behind her as she paced in front of him deliberating whether she should sit the vicar on her left or would it be more appropriate to have his son sit there instead.

_'What has George done to me?_' Darcy seethed as he closed his eyes momentarily and opened them to find her standing by the window, a thoughtful expression on her face as she tried to decide if the floral arrangement should be made from dahlias and chrysanthemums or simply roses? Darcy clenched and unclenched his hand; why could she not be an ordinary girl with no connection to his nincompoop of a brother? Or why can he not be an obtuse oaf to whom no such thing mattered?

He watched in silence as her fingers played upon her collar bone. She had asked to be respected and believed and yet he did not know how to do either when so much of her past remained a mystery to him?

"Elizabeth," he blurted out, cutting her in mid-sentence and she turned abruptly around and rose an eyebrow at him in question, "I want to be left alone." His tone sounded harsh even to his own ears.

"Of course," she visibly paled and swiftly left the window to walk towards the door.

"I…," he began to say something to soften the hurt that she must have felt at his previous words but she opened the door and exited before he could.

Darcy pursed his lips. _'Well,' _he thought sardonically, _'fabulous handling there.'_

He turned around and went to sit upon the chair behind the desk. He immediately regretted his words. He had not meant to be so stern in his tone of voice, but his anger at George had just left him sans his usual self control. _'Poor child,' _he thought remorsefully of Elizabeth's pale countenance. It was not her fault that his brother was the worse kind of blackguard. A knock on the door came suddenly.

"Enter," he called out and two maids entered with breakfast trays.

"The mistress said to serve your breakfast here," the older maid curtseyed and told him in subdued tones.

Darcy merely nodded, feeling thoroughly ashamed of his unjust treatment of Elizabeth a few minutes ago. The maids went away and he walked to where they had laid his breakfast, his appetite disappearing completely. How could he be so unfair and biased about Elizabeth when all she had done since she came here was to be amiable and pleasant, not only to him, but to his family and staff as well.

She had shown restraint in avoiding unpleasantness, even though she did not completely become a dull-witted wife, for that would have been worse than anything else. It was her spirit that was to be valued the most, besides her….err…bodily charms. She was trying to mold herself into the role of the mistress, though not on the lines his mother, indeed they were too different to run the house in the same manner. But so far she had proven herself to be quite capable even though inexperienced. She had turned out to be a strong and positive influence on Georgiana as well, which was something he had least expected but was thankful for nonetheless.

And she was doing all this alone. She did have the guidance of Mrs. Reynolds and the company of Anne and Georgiana, but essentially, she was alone. Her father had become a stranger to her the moment she and George were found out, and the rest of the family on her wedding day. For all her cheerfulness, Elizabeth must be sad because of the absence of people she had called her family all her life.

Almost every doubt that he had harboured against her had been proven wrong, and yet he still persisted in thinking the worst of her. _'Well,' _he though determinedly, staring at the omelet, _'that ends today.' _That was the day that Fitzwilliam Darcy promised himself that he would never underestimate or judge his wife unfairly. If she demanded respect than he would try his best to overcome his prejudice and give it to her. He also made another resolution; to stop dwelling on the past and on George, nothing good would ever come out of thinking about them.

* * *

His uncle, Mr. Edmund Darcy laughed quite loudly from the other end of the table as his son Joshua, a lanky seventeen year old and Elizabeth joined in. Darcy wanted very much to know what the joke was but Mrs. Helena Darcy simply did not know when to take a break from talking. He eyed her warily as he wondered where the food in her plate was going, for he sure did not see her put it into her mouth.

"…and Mrs. Ickleberry really knows her jams and puddings," she told him as if he had an extreme amount of interest in the unknown Mrs. Ickleberry. "I should know, for as the vicar's wife it is my responsibility to find such things out," she dimpled mischievously, "and take advantage."

Anne chuckled softly at this, Georgiana and Henrietta Darcy kept on whispering into each other's ears while young Master Jonathan was apparently the only person in the large Darcy dining room who took the food seriously. Darcy's eyes drifted towards Elizabeth again, as had become their custom by now, and found her countenance grave as she said something to his uncle. Darcy expertly toned off his aunt's voice and concentrated on what was being exchanged at the other end of the table.

"…what if fate dealt you with something that was completely unfair," she said with feeling, "what if you get falsely accused and are made to bear the consequences of someone else's wicked schemes? How is that just and what does Providence want by subjecting a person to such a stroke of ill luck?"

Darcy's pupils dilated slightly as he observed the agitation on her face. He wondered what discussion had led her to talk about such a sensitive topic. He moved his gaze to the soft, kind one of his uncle's and saw him smile affectionately at Elizabeth before he placed his wrinkled hand upon her smooth one.

"Ill luck is not always meant as a punishment, child," he said in his vicar's voice which was low as compared to his wife's high pitched and incessant one, but held far more sway. "It is sometimes supposed to check our mettle, our courage in the face of hard times and our determination to strive forward no matter what the situation or the consequences."

"But to what end?" Elizabeth had that same forlorn look on her face again that made Darcy anxious for her, a feeling relatively new but not light.

"To make us stronger," Uncle Edmund patted her hand and said simply, "and to make us look at life with more optimism of mind and clarity of purpose." Darcy could see that Elizabeth looked unconvinced and yet she was not deliberately trying to be difficult. "Whatever happens, happens for a reason," he said, "and eventually, if not now, you will understand that whatever _happened, happened for the best."_

Elizabeth quickly turned towards Darcy as they shared a surprised look at Uncle Edmund's meaningful tone. Darcy could not be sure if he was simply talking in flow or if he actually meant something specific by his words.

"Oh stop boring the young people with your tales of whateverhappens, happens for a reasonspeech, Edmund," Aunt Helena looked affectionately at her much older husband, "have you not had enough of sermonizing all your life?"

"Once you start in that line," he said somewhat apologetically, "it is a little hard to stop lecturing. Sometimes I do it without even realizing that the person opposite is probably only being polite."

"I assure you, I was not being polite at all," Elizabeth squeezed his hand and then retrieved hers, "my husband here would tell you that I simply do not know how to," there was a tone of resentment in her voice as she looked archly towards him. Darcy felt discomfited for he still had not apologized to her for his ill mannered behaviour in the study a day ago.

"Oh yes," Aunt Helena chimed in after taking a rather long sip of her wine, "if your husband takes his eyes off you long enough to say something." She said in a pleasant, teasing tenor and the laughter around the table was genuine as was the surprise in Elizabeth's eyes. Darcy thought it wise to finally avert his own, before everyone noticed how much he had began to stare at her.

After lunch everyone moved to the drawing room where the small party formed into even smaller groups, excepting his uncle who quickly spotted a large and comfortable chair and sat down upon it, closing his eyes immediately. Joshua and Jonathan sat quietly beside him while the girls went towards the pianoforte. Darcy raised his eyes to find Elizabeth and Anne sitting next to him with Aunt Helena.

"And how has the experience of married life been for you, William?" Aunt Helena asked him with a hint of mischief in her eyes, "and why are you still wearing this ring?" She suddenly turned towards Elizabeth.

Darcy likewise turned towards her. His gaze dropped to her hand as he was reminded of the day that he had offered her any other ring of her choosing and she had declined. Darcy had seen her resolve in her eyes that night, she was no mercenary and she was determined to prove it. Indeed her behaviour throughout the short span of their marriage was a testament to her lack of interest in anything material. She had not wanted him to settle anything upon her, had not used a single shilling of his money in almost a month and preferred a simple wooden swing to expensive jewelry.

"I do not know why you dislike it so," Elizabeth pouted playfully at his aunt, "it is ugly, to be sure, but I find it fascinating as well."

_'No,' _he thought with conviction, _'definitely not mercenary.' _He looked up at her face and was again struck by the innocence upon it. He had raked his brains inside out but could not come up with the solution of what she was doing with George if she had no intention of ensnaring him. Her obvious reluctance at getting engaged to George and subsequent avoidance of him, all bespoke her aversion to his brother. _'If neither attachment to George nor an ambition to trap a rich husband were her motivations,' _he thought helplessly, _'then why go to the library at all, and why allow him such obscene liberties?'_

"You would not have if you knew the history behind it," she said dryly.

"What is the history behind it?" Elizabeth sat up a little as she turned completely towards her, "Mr. Darcy is silent as the grave on the subject."

Darcy frowned. Knowing full well that it was Aunt Helena's favourite topic and she would go on and on about it, in full detail, most of which will be wrong.

"Oh, so you do not know?" She asked with the satisfaction of an old hand at gossip, "it is most interesting and somewhat scandalous, I assure you?"

"Scandalous?" Elizabeth looked from his aunt to him in surprise.

"Well, Desiree trapped Fitzwilliam into marriage," Aunt Helena announced rather gleefully.

Darcy closed his eyes in helplessness for a moment. The reason he had not told Elizabeth about Desiree's background was that the well known version of it bore a striking resemblance to Elizabeth's own past.

"She was visiting England and was a guest here at Pemberley," his aunt continued, "when somehow or other Desiree and Fitzwilliam were found in a rather…err…inappropriate situation in the library."

Elizabeth's face immediately became ashen. Darcy could see that she was extremely disturbed at his Aunt's words by the way she clenched and unclenched her fingers.

"Aunt Helena," his deep voice called out and she quickly turned towards him. "I do not think that you are acquainted with the truth behind this tale."

"The truth?" She asked in confusion, "why my dear boy, the whole family knows the truth and it is what I just said."

"No," he said firmly, "I think the misinterpretation about the whole _compromise_ situation has gone long enough. It was not Desiree who planned to trap him, nor was it Fitzwilliam who attempted the compromise. The circumstances were such that everyone was misled, resulting in the marriage between the two in order to avoid a scandal."

"And how do you know that?" She raised an eyebrow at him, "and why is everyone else in the dark about it?"

"Well," he looked sheepishly towards Elizabeth who sat numbly staring at her hands, "I read Fitzwilliam's journal a while back, before it got misplaced. I am not going to go into any details," he uttered quickly as he saw Aunt Helena open her mouth to bombard him with questions, "suffice to say that unlike the common belief, Desiree was blameless."

"Well I never, I feel like such a fool" she said in utter stupefaction, and for the first time that day, went completely silent.

"One must never be quick to judge anything on appearances alone," the seemingly asleep vicar said from his seat a little further off, with his eyes still closed, "it always generates false impressions that lead to ill-will."

Darcy looked towards Elizabeth and found a pulse throbbing in her temple. Suddenly he had the impulse to console her, to take her in his arms and tell her that no one would ever accuse her of being a wanton again, that she need not take the comparison between herself and Desiree too seriously. But just as suddenly as the impulse, came the realization that all of what he thought was probably not true. His heart clenched painfully at the convolution of his life; nothing was as simple as he wanted it to be.

"But why did you choose this ring for her then?" His aunt recovered before he could. Darcy did not have an answer to her question but help came from the silent Anne.

"He did not," she spoke up, "it was George. William was too busy and appointed him to get it for him from Pemberley and you know George. He is always up to some mischief or another. He got the ring as a joke upon his brother and new sister."

"Well that boy needs some serious reprimanding," she shook her head and for a while the room echoed only with the soft melody that Georgiana's fingers created.

The hour passed pleasantly until his uncle declared that it was time to leave for their home, which was a half a day's journey from Pemberley and he wanted to reach there before dark. The disappointment on the faces of Georgiana and Henrietta was just as obvious as the relief on Joshua and Jonathan's. As the hosts stood with their guests on the stairs at the entrance of the house, Darcy saw Uncle Edmund draw Elizabeth slightly away from the rest of them.

"Do not despair, my dear," he told her in a soft voice, "all you must do is wait for the realization to dawn."

"The realization?" She looked at him in surprise and curiosity, "whatever of?"

"You shall know soon enough," he stole a glance towards Darcy and then looked back at her pensive face, "it will not be long now."

Darcy helped his aunt up the carriage and then watched it move down the ride. He turned around and saw the women going back inside the house. The food had been excellent, the conversation pleasant but he still was not sure if the lunch had been a success only because Elizabeth looked so dull and despondent towards the end of it. As Georgiana and Anne retired for the night, he followed Elizabeth up the stairs.

"Elizabeth," he called her softly as they approached their rooms.

"Hm?" She asked absentmindedly, without turning to look towards him.

"About yesterday," he began tentatively as they stopped in front of their respective doors, "I was in a …"

"I understand," she shrugged indifferently, cutting his sentence short, "you were distraught about something and wanted your study to yourself to think it over." She turned slightly away and placed her hand on the door handle.

"But it was uncalled f…," he tried to explain but she cut him once again.

"Mr. Darcy," she said coldly, "I understand your impulse of yesterday morning more than you know, for right now I am sorely tempted to repeat your words to you and ask to be left alone."

She quickly opened the door and slammed it shut behind her leaving a stunned and mortified Darcy in her wake. _'Well,' _he thought as he entered his room, _'she sure knows how to get back at me.'_

But if Darcy was one thing, it was resolute and in that moment he was determined to make things right with her. They had already allowed the resentments born out of misunderstandings to embitter their lives, it had to stop now for them to start afresh. He threw down his coat and decided to go for a walk instead of a ride the next day and meet Elizabeth, quite _by chance_ while she was there as well.

* * *

Elizabeth heard a knock on her door just as she was preparing for bed and frowned. _'Did Elsie forget something?' _She wondered.

"Enter," she called out and the door opened to reveal a somewhat hesitant Anne lingering in the doorway. "Anne," Elizabeth said in surprise for she had never before approached her at that time of the night, "please come in."

Anne closed the door behind her and stepped towards Elizabeth who was standing near the dresser.

"I…I…came to check upon you," she said hesitantly, surprising Elizabeth again.

"Check upon me?" Elizabeth asked in confusion and then placed the brush upon the dresser and motioned for Anne to take a seat in the chair by the hearth. "Do you think me ill? For I assure you that I am perfectly fine."

Elizabeth took the other chair and looked calmly at Anne who still seemed somewhat unsure about what to say.

"I meant the whole episode about Desiree," Anne looked at her with trepidation, "you seemed quite astonished about it and I…well…I only wanted to see if you were all right."

Elizabeth looked thoughtfully at Anne; it was true that she had been somewhat shocked at the revelation about how Desiree and Fitzwilliam came to be married and the resemblance of the whole incident to her own marriage. It came at a point when she was beginning to think that she was finally strong enough to put it behind her and move forward in life, but apparently she was not as indifferent to the whole story as she might have thought.

"No one has compared you to Desiree, Elizabeth," Anne's voice broke her chain of thought, "but even if they had, you should take it as a compliment. Only a very strong woman would come out of such agonizing circumstances unscathed."

"I am not unscathed," Elizabeth said dully.

"The vicar was right you know," Anne said earnestly as she sat up in her chair, "this shall make you stronger. If a situation as excruciating as the one you have gone through did not manage to break you, nothing will."

"How do you know?" Elizabeth looked in surprise at her.

"I was at Darcy House when you revealed the truth about your history with George, remember?" She asked and Elizabeth nodded, "and I have been observing you ever since your marriage to William. You are no ordinary girl Elizabeth and that is why I must argue that you are unscathed, or at least that the wounds will heal sooner than later."

"I try to forget, to get past all that has happened," she said in dejection, "but then something happens that pushes me back into my tortured past."

"Something or someone would always be working against you, my dear," Anne said firmly, "but you must strive to get past it. Can you not see, everyone thought it to be Desiree's fault but Fitzwilliam knew the truth and it was his opinion that mattered in the end. At least William is being supportive, is he not?"

Elizabeth thought about Mr. Darcy's behaviour and excepting the fact that she knew his mistrust of her, she had nothing to accuse him of. He had been kind and generous in his manner towards her, had promised to be more understanding and trusting and had assured her that he would work on this marriage with her. No, except a few mood swings, which she could not exactly blame him for, he had been supportive.

"He does not trust me," she said in a matter of fact manner.

"Has he said so?" Anne asked with a frown.

"Not in so many words," Elizabeth said staring at her ring, "but it has been implied more than once."

"Perhaps he did not, in the beginning," Anne said thoughtfully, "but I can see a change in him. Did you not notice how he completely left the luncheon arrangements to you? He is such a fastidious person that he rarely ever does that."

"Is that so?" Elizabeth sat up a little from her dejected pose, "I thought it was because he was preoccupied with something."

"No matter how much occupied he is," Anne smiled slyly, "William never takes his responsibilities lightly."

"So you think that he trusts me as far as the management of the house is concerned?" She asked doubtfully.

"Of course, he does," Anne said with authority. "He also trusts you with Gina, or he would never leave her unattended with you."

"Dear, sweet Gina," Elizabeth smiled at the thought of Georgiana, "who would ever try to hurt her, surely Mr. Darcy must know this."

"But if he had thought your influence to be harmful for her, he would not have encouraged the growing intimacy between the two of you so much."

Elizabeth looked up sharply at Anne's earnest countenance. The room suddenly looked brighter to her. It was true that Mr. Darcy would never let a woman he thought wanton, near his sister for he would be forever afraid of Georgiana picking up any damaging influences. Her eyes took on a certain sparkle as she smiled a beautiful, confident smile.

"Oh and speaking of trust," Anne brought up another point, "I think he respects your opinion as well. He did hear Richard out about our…err…interlude upon the stairs, after **you** convinced him to."

"It was more cornering and less convincing," Elizabeth chuckled at the memory of Mr. Darcy's irritation.

"And I suppose everyone on the table, today, noticed how he kept staring at you," Anne teased and Elizabeth felt a slight blush creep up her neck. He did stare at her a lot, and though she had tried to tell herself that it was an absence of thought and nothing else, she knew that his gazes held meaning.

"Everyone except young Master Jonathan," Elizabeth joked and Anne's laughter rang out.

"When are the Barrington's coming?" Anne asked her.

"On the day after tomorrow," Elizabeth said and a certain unease engulfed her.

Mr. Darcy loved lady Felicity, and now she was coming to Pemberley, a house that he had meant for her to be mistress of. It would be difficult to see him suffer for another woman. Anne left after a while, but Elizabeth kept on tossing and turning, trying to ignore the unease that the thought of Lady Felicity coming to _her_home generated, but failing miserably at it.

Elizabeth woke up early the next morning and decided to take her breakfast in the dining room before setting out for a walk. She kept on walking towards the boundary of the estate till she heard her name being called and turned around to see Mr. Darcy coming towards her from a distance. Her heart thudded loudly in her chest as he came nearer and nearer. Perhaps it was the realization brought about by her conversation with Anne on the previous night, of Mr. Darcy starting to see her in a new light, that made her see him in the same or perhaps it was something else altogether but she could not stop herself from blushing lightly at his approach.

_'The only lover you shall ever have is me,' _words uttered by Mr. Darcy a few nights ago imposed upon her mind yet again, as they had been doing since then. Her already blushing countenance turned crimson as her heart beat accelerated.

"Have you not gone for a ride today?" She asked as he came within hearing distance in an effort to seem unaffected by his presence.

"No," he replied staring at her, "I felt like walking today."

Elizabeth shifted her weight from one foot to another under his steadfast gaze. _'What does he mean by staring at me all the time?' _She thought in part amusement part confusion.

"Do I have jam on my mouth again?" She asked warily and he blinked.

"No," he replied and looked slightly embarrassed, "how do you feel today?" He asked looking ill at ease.

"Fine," she was not feeling all too comfortable either and so she decided to do something she did best, tease him. "Do you not want to be left alone today Mr. Darcy?" She tilted her head to a side and asked rather impertinently.

"I was in a rather bad mood that morning," he coloured lightly, "but that is no excuse for behaving the way I did. It was abominable and I heartily apologize for it."

"Why were you in a bad mood?" She ignored his remorse and concentrated on the reason for his ill-temper, "was it because of the argument that we had had on breakfast a day earlier?"

"No indeed," he stepped closer and placed his hand on the tree against which she stood, "I was only thinking of Geo…" He stopped short without finishing his sentence and stared at his shoes.

Elizabeth pursed her lips. She had also been thinking about George the previous night and could well understand why Mr. Darcy's mood had soured at the thought of his brother.

"Do you know where he is?" She asked as she looked up straight into his eyes.

"Pexley," he said gravely, "Farnsworth's estate in Essex."

"Do you think we would ever come across him?" She rested her back against the tree as her eyes shifted to the horizon.

"It is bound to happen sooner or later," he removed his hand from the tree and folded his arms on his chest.

"What would you do when it happens?" She turned her eyes towards him and saw his face turn hard, his eyes narrowing in suppressed anger, "how would you punish him?"

"I do not know," he said in a frustrated tone of voice as he unfolded his arms and his fingers clenched into hard fists.

"I wish him to come," she stared at him as her ire at his brother rose slowly, "I want him to …," she did not get to finish her sentence as Mr. Darcy rammed the side of his fist into the tree, near her face.

"To beg for mercy…," his face twisted into a cruel expression, "I want him to…"

"Suffer," she rasped. "He must…"

"Pay," he breathed angrily. "He must be…"

"Punished," she finished for him as they stared into each other's eyes with a unity of purpose.

Both Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy had suffered at the hands of George, but they had suffered alone. That day was the first time that their shared animosity had come to the fore so wholly. They looked at one another with understanding for each other's sorrow and hatred for the person responsible for it.

"I want him to be held against this very tree and punched till his nose breaks," Elizabeth huffed childishly.

"I have already broken one nose on his account," Mr. Darcy said dryly as he looked down at her with pained eyes.

"Whose?"

"Farnsworth's."

"Tell me," she demanded as she grabbed his sleeve and turned him towards herself.

"It was Farnsworth who convinced him to abandon the wedding," he said firmly, "George could not have thought of such a thing on his own."

"You might feel compelled to make excuses for him because he is your brother," her eyes blazed up at him, "but even the Baron could not have forced him to do anything against his will. Do not forget that he sent the invitations and procured the license all by himself."

"You misunderstand," he shrugged his shoulders, "I do not hold him blameless for even a moment, but I cannot help thinking that if Farnsworth had not come to London before the wedding, things would have been different."

"For you, I suppose," she sighed and looked away again, "but my fate would have been effectively sealed."

She stared at the trees moving in the light breeze a little way off; Mr. Darcy might lay the burden on the Baron's door, but the truth was that Elizabeth's doom had begun the moment she had gone to Netherfield Park to take care of Jane. Whatever happened there, happened on the initiative and will of George Darcy, with no encouragement or instigation from his friend.

"And is it not now?" He took her unawares and with a question she was not ready for, yet.

She looked up sharply and found him eyeing her with hooded, impassive eyes. There was no doubt in her mind that she had been saved from a fate of misery and despair by marrying Mr. Darcy instead of George. Charlotte was right on that score, the fates had chosen far better for her than her father had. She did not know how to answer with a soft blush spreading upon her cheeks.

"Is yours?" Elizabeth asked instead, not knowing how to reply to his question without either lying or letting the truth slip.

"No," his answer was firmly written in his eyes as it was uttered by his lips.

"You amaze me," she said jokingly and turned away her face, not being able to bear the intensity in his eyes or to hide the joy in hers.

"No, _you_ amaze _me_," his hand reached up and lightly touched the side of her chin, tipping it towards himself, "everyday, every moment, all the time."

Elizabeth had no idea how she stopped herself from gasping out loud. This was the third time that he had touched her face, and the third time that she had felt a tingle travel down her spine. But this time his words, uttered with so much feeling, also had a hand in the movement of the said _tingle._

"How do you mean?" She forced herself to look directly into his deep, unfathomable eyes.

"You are a clever woman Elizabeth, can you not figure it out yourself?" He smiled a soft smile that would have lit up the surroundings if Elizabeth had not suddenly been struck by the similarity between what he said and what his brother had said on that ill-fated night a few months ago.

_'Clever Elizabeth…aren't you just perfect.' _George had said as he had stood close to her, much closer than he had the right to.

She quickly stepped back from Mr. Darcy, breaking the contact between her face and his hand as he looked at her in bewilderment. Elizabeth stared back at him in resentment, though it was not for him.

"Promise me that you will punish him, Mr. Darcy," she asked in an insistent tone and he looked at her in confusion before understanding dawned on his face.

"William," she turned around sharply and found Georgiana coming towards them from afar.

Elizabeth looked back at Mr. Darcy and saw him staring at the approaching figure of his sister.

"It shall be devastating for her if I did," he said in a sad, low voice.

"And it shall be devastating for _me,_if you did not," she said stubbornly, "Promise me."

Suddenly, his face became hard, his eyes unyielding. "I promise," he said tightly and Elizabeth knew that his word was enough. Perhaps the day that George Darcy would come face to face with them would never come and so there shall be no opportunity to punish him either, but she would always remember this day when Mr. Darcy gave her his word, because she trusted it.

* * *

Elizabeth stepped outside the entrance just as Mr. Darcy helped Lady Felicity out of the carriage, followed by her tall and lean brother. To Elizabeth's surprise Lord Barrington did not try to flirt with her, he seemed pale and drawn. Perhaps the journey had been taxing. Lady Felicity seemed quiet as well. Elizabeth felt awkward as she led them to their rooms in the guest wing so that they could rest before dinner was served.

"Colonel Fitzwilliam," she cried as she climbed down the stairs and saw him standing at the foot of the stairs with an annoyed looking Mr. Darcy. "I did not know that you were to come before the wedding," she looked warily towards Mr. Darcy who was eyeing him with a scowl on his face.

"Look here Darcy," he bowed to Elizabeth and then turned back towards the angry master of Pemberley, "there are so many people here now that it is no longer inappropriate for me and Anne to be in the same house any more."

"That is lame, Richard," Darcy growled, "even for you."

"We shall debate about this later," Elizabeth chided the two grown men, one of whom was behaving like an insistent and the other like a spoilt child, "and not while standing in the off to the drawing room, the guests shall be coming down any moment."

Mr. Darcy and Colonel Fitzwilliam looked sullenly at each other and Elizabeth tried not to laugh at their silliness.

"And Mr. Darcy," she called out as they moved towards the drawing room, he turned towards her slightly, "do not frown," she teased and had the satisfaction of seeing him purse his lips to hide a smile. The Colonel rolled his eyes and Elizabeth quickly sought Mrs. Reynolds to inform her of an added guest at the dining table.

Elizabeth watched with interest as Anne entered the drawing room and started at seeing the Colonel rise up from his chair. Her joy at thus encountering her beloved when she had no idea that he would be there was palpable even though her reaction was subdued. Georgiana however had no such qualms and her shriek of delight was loud enough. Elizabeth smiled at the sulking Mr. Darcy who merely raised an eyebrow in response.

"We never have any fun when you are not around, Richard," Georgiana was effectively giving words to Anne's silence, "you were terribly missed."

"By you perhaps, my dear," he patted her on the head, "but your brother's reaction has not been very welcoming."

"Your frown has turned into a scowl Mr. Darcy," Elizabeth whispered in his ear, "stop brooding."

"But this is so frustrating," he whispered back, "he should not be here."

"Yes," she said soothingly, "but neither should you be showing your displeasure in front of the Barringtons. You have plenty of time to deal with this issue, please do not spoil your mood tonight." She tilted her head to a side and looked appealingly at her husband, not knowing how charming he found her just then. Mr. Darcy gulped and nodded and slowly his face softened, just as the guests entered the room.

The pleasantries were exchanged and everyone moved to the dining room after a few minutes. Lord Barrington, though not saying much, was quick to secure Elizabeth's arm as he followed Mr. Darcy and Lady Felicity. Colonel Fitzwilliam was happy to escort his betrothed and his young cousin. Dinner began with pleasant conversation and white soup as Mr. Darcy sat at the head of the table with Lady Felicity and Anne on his sides and Elizabeth at the foot with Lord Barrington and Colonel Fitzwilliam on hers. Georgiana sat between the Colonel and Anne.

"The journey from London to Derbyshire can be quite taxing," Mr. Darcy began tentatively, "I hope you fared well on your way?" He asked Lady Felicity.

"It was long but comfortable," she smiled up at him, "I thank you for asking."

"Are you not going to ask me the same question, Mrs. Darcy?" Lord Barrington looked at her with his bright brown eyes, so much like her own, "after all it is the duty of a hostess to ask after the details of her guests' journey."

"If you have an exciting tale of almost getting abducted, or robbed by highwaymen," she sipped her soup delicately and flashed him a pearly smile, "then I suppose I must. But if it has been an uneventful journey, then I shall not be wasting my time on the mundane."

"Indeed," he raised an eyebrow, "so like your husband, you do not believe in small talk either?"

"Darcy does not believe in _any_kind of talk," Colonel Fitzwilliam teased and Elizabeth knew that he was covertly avenging Mr. Darcy for turning him out of Pemberley. She hid a smile behind her spoon, "small or long."

"I beg to differ, Colonel" Elizabeth looked archly at the smiling man on her right, "for my husband tends to become quite loquacious in the face of an argument."

"Indeed," Lord Barrington allowed the footman to clear his bowl and replace it with a steaming plate of salmon, "I would not have known this of old Darcy."

"The provocation has to be given the credit for my sudden loquaciousness," Mr. Darcy looked pointedly at Elizabeth who remained unperturbed as she placed a small bit of fish inside her mouth and felt a deep appreciation for the cook's culinary skills.

"As is the inclination to never give in," she challenged from across the table and then smiled sweetly at him before swiftly turning towards the slightly wide-eyed Lady Felicity. "I hope the fish is to your taste Lady Felicity, Mrs. Reynolds informs me that you quite liked it on your visit here last year."

"Oh…of course," she smiled back at her, quickly gaining her composure, "it is just as delicious now as it was then."

Elizabeth could not help her eyes from turning to the beautiful woman on her husband's left again and again throughout dinner. Not only was she perfect of face and form, she also seemed completely unassuming and amiable. To Elizabeth, Lady Felicity seemed like the perfect combination of wealth, beauty and goodness of nature. It was obvious that she was not too comfortable there, but she was trying her best to be genial.

As Mr. Darcy asked a footman to refill Lady Felicity's glass, Elizabeth watched their eyes meet for a moment before they quickly averted their gazes. Mr. Darcy's face remained impassive whereas Lady Felicity looked pained. Elizabeth felt awful in that moment and somewhat guilty as well, it was not her fault that they had been separated, but she was the cause nonetheless. She gripped her fork tightly as George's smug countenance appeared briefly in front of her eyes, and shook her head lightly to ward off his image.

All of them repaired to the drawing room after dinner except Lord Barrington, who excused himself for a few moments. As light conversation was carried on, the major participants being the Colonel and Elizabeth, Lord Barrington appeared with a basket in his hands.

"I have a surprise for you Mrs. Darcy," he held up the basket and a small puppy peeped out from among the blankets.

The shrieks of delight that came from Elizabeth, Georgiana and Anne was probably not what the little thing expected for it quickly ducked beneath the blankets, only its large liquid eyes remained visible as it warily searched the room for a bit of solace. Elizabeth quickly walked up to him and softly took the puppy in her arms.

"For me?" She asked with glee as she held the soft pup up to take a good look at it, "is this little bundle of adorableness only for me?"

"Well, not _only _for you," he teased, "that will be most improper." Elizabeth rolled her eyes. "It is for both you and Darcy," he looked at her in interest.

"Mr. Darcy does not need it," she began but two large, warm hands softly took it from her.

"I beg to differ," he drawled as he examined the little bewildered pup. "Is it a Beagle?" He asked Lord Barrington.

"Yes," he stepped towards Elizabeth as he placed the basket on a nearby table, "it will never forget you once it catches on to your fragrance."

"Have you named it yet?" She asked him with excitement as the small puppy yelped at Darcy, finally warming up to the occupants of the room.

"No, indeed. It is yours and so you should name it also." He bent towards her and gave her a charming smile, Elizabeth blinked, _'is he flirting again?' _She wondered.

"How about Romeo?" Mr. Darcy quipped in a dry tone, "quite apt, eh?"

Elizabeth laughed heartily at the sour expression on Lord Barrington's face and held Romeo close to herself as she looked towards Georgiana.

"I believe Buttons is going to have a tough time pretty soon," she teased her as she walked back towards her chair, "once **Romeo** catches on to its smell."

Everyone laughed and Elizabeth's eyes turned towards Mr. Darcy whom she found looking at Lady Felicity once again, a thoughtful expression on his face. She suddenly felt uncomfortable and apprehensive as she felt Lord Barrington take a place next to her.

"I have often thought about you in the weeks after your wedding," she looked up to find him looking at her with a strange light in his eyes as he stared unblinkingly at her, "I hope we are going to have a very pleasant stay here at Pemberley."

Elizabeth smiled in some confusion and then her eyes returned towards her husband who was now looking at her, his frown back in place. Elizabeth felt irked, _'he can look at Lady Felicity with a soft expression, but for me all he has is these severe, intense stares.'_

She ignored his frown and turned towards Lord Barrington who seemed interested only in talking to her, to the exclusion of all else. _'And he does not stare quite so intensely at me either,' _she thought as she laughed at a joke that Lord Barrington told, completely ignoring the steely glances that Mr. Darcy was throwing her way.

**Next Chapter: Elizabeth's Advocates**


	22. Chapter 22

**Chapter 22: Elizabeth's Advocates**

**Advocate No. 1: Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam**

Darcy looked outside the window of the rotunda as Elizabeth and Lady Felicity walked on Barrington's arms. It seemed as though they were having a pleasant conversation as both the ladies constantly kept throwing their heads back in laughter while their entertainer smiled smugly.

"The Barringtons are a nice addition to our family party, are they not?" Richard asked as he stood beside him sipping his port.

Darcy merely nodded, his eyes now on Lady Felicity as she left her brother and Elizabeth alone and walked off to where Georgiana sat sketching Anne near the stream. She was closely followed by Buttons, who always thought it best to stay with an _adult,_in order to ward off Romeo's assassination attempts.

"Beautiful woman, that," Richard observed in a casual manner and Darcy had to agree, "makes you wonder why she hasn't been snatched off yet."

Darcy remained quiet as the feeling of guilt made his heart heavy once again. Lady Felicity was a true lady with real class and a firm control over her responses to everyone and everything. He had never gotten the idea that she blamed him for deserting her, but that had not stopped him from feeling like a cad.

"That Romeo of yours really does behave like his namesake when it comes to Mrs. Darcy," Richard chuckled and Darcy's eyes quickly moved towards the two tall figures that cooed over the pup in Elizabeth's arms as they stood close together.

Darcy's frown suddenly made an appearance; surely there was no need for Barrington to stand so near Elizabeth. He watched in silent disapproval as Barrington's hand came to rest on her shoulder and he whispered something in her ear that made her laugh out loud. Darcy's frown deepened.

"Look at them," Richard said in amusement, oblivious to Darcy's souring mood, "he is clearly besotted with her."

"Nonsense," Darcy said in annoyance. Barrington was young and heedless, but he would never make a play for a married woman.

"Do you not see the way he looks at her?" Richard persisted.

Darcy stared at them. Elizabeth was looking up at Barrington as she said something and he was looking down at her as though he had never beheld such a sight, awestruck, mesmerized. Darcy gritted his teeth in irritation, after all Barrington should know better than to look at a married woman in such an obviously infatuated manner.

"And look how she holds him in her arms," Richard said in amusement, "Georgiana should sketch them, they make quite the picture."

Darcy's eyes widened for a moment, _'is Elizabeth holding Barrington in her arms?' _He looked at them with a horrorstruck expression and then understanding dawned on him as Elizabeth bent down and let Romeo skip along. Richard was talking about Romeo not Barrington. He gave his cousin a death glare, but sighed in relief and felt some embarrassment at his silly thoughts as well.

"Was there a woman in your life before your marriage to her?" Richard suddenly asked him as he settled down in the window seat.

Darcy stiffened but could not stop his eyes from moving towards Lady Felicity, who was sitting upon the swing now. It was true that as far as marriage was concerned his mind was as good as made up, it was Lady Felicity that he had wanted to marry. Darcy had gone through life with many a woman thrust upon him, some of them quite worthy as well, but Lady Felicity was the first and the only woman whom he had envisioned as the future Mrs. Darcy.

He had known her all his life, since Lady Barrington and Lady Anne had been as close as sisters and the Darcy and Barrington children had been on friendly terms since childhood. But he would be lying if he said that she suddenly caught his attention and he became besotted with her. No, it was a conscious effort on his part to get to know her better and it had started on a fine day almost a year ago, when the Barringtons were visiting Pemberley and he had overheard her conversation with Georgiana. Darcy had never been a romantic, though by nature faithful, he had never fantasized too much about marrying for love. Hence when he heard how well Lady Felicity guided Georgiana on the subject of coming out into society, he had decided to observe her as a probable bride.

Not only was she well bred and learned, she was also an intelligent conversationalist with a pleasant manner and a natural grace. During their stay at Pemberley, he had observed her interactions with the other guests as well as the staff and could find nothing to censure. After a gap of almost five months, they had met again in London for the season and every meeting had strengthened his conviction of her being superior to any other female of his acquaintance. But just when he had decided to finally offer for her, Miss Bingley's letter had arrived and certain events were set into motion that he had no power over.

Darcy pressed the bridge of his nose as his eyes wandered from Lady Felicity to Elizabeth who stood near the stream with his mother's red shawl wrapped around her arms. He admired Lady Felicity for all the finer qualities of her character and also the beauty of her person, but she had never evoked the kind of reaction in him that his wife stirred daily and without any effort. _'No,' _he thought with certainty, _'there was no one in my life before Elizabeth.'_

"Why do you ask?" Darcy looked towards Richard and asked coldly. He had never liked people interfering in his personal affairs, but it was different with Richard. They had no secrets from each other.

"Because of the distance between you and your wife," he said calmly and Darcy sat down in the window seat next to him.

Whatever the reason for the distance between him and his wife, it most certainly was not Lady Felicity. It was his brother, and his history with Elizabeth. If only he had proposed to Lady Felicity before going off to Hertfordshire, his life would not have become a whirlpool of emotions that it was now. Lady Felicity, though by no means dull, was a serene and contained woman who would never have antagonized him the way Elizabeth did, she would never have argued pointlessly like Elizabeth nor would she have flung accusations at him like her.

"You say that as though you are unaware of the reason we got married in the first place," Darcy said in mild irritation as he looked at Richard who casually sipped his drink while looking at him through hooded eyes. "There is bound to be distance between us," he said firmly.

"Yes," Richard conceded, "but it has been a month since you got married. Do you not think that you should at least get over some of your differences?"

Richard was right and Darcy felt a little guilty for just now comparing Elizabeth and Lady Felicity. It was true that they had had a number of arguments in the beginning and there was some potent hostility between the two of them while they accused each other constantly, but it was all done with now. Elizabeth had proven to be everything that he had though Lady Felicity would be, and there was the added charm of her person that he found growing with the passage of every day. They had come a little if not a long way from the strangers that they were on their wedding night.

"And how do you know if we have not?" Darcy raised an eyebrow at him.

"So you have?" Richard raised an eyebrow as well and got up to refill his glass.

"For some things, yes," Darcy said thoughtfully as his eyes turned back towards the stream. Elizabeth stepped closer to the stream and suddenly she lost her balance. Darcy's eyes widened but Barrington pulled her back by grabbing onto her arm. She slammed hard against his chest and a muscle in Darcy's jaw clenched. He abruptly stood up. "But for some things, not at all," his voice became somewhat sever.

"I have to admit," Richard said from his place by the table, oblivious of the cold glare that Darcy was subjecting his wife and her companion to, "she has surprised me in almost every way. Quite a capable woman and beautiful as well, more fool you if you do not see that."

Darcy knew well how capable she was, she had proven her worth quite often after their marriage. He observed as she took her arm out of Barrington's grasp and turned towards the ladies. Darcy could see that her expression was somewhat miffed. _'Hopefully at the ever eager Earl of Henley,' _he thought with was also aware of her beauty, she was like a bright ray of sunshine as she glided towards Georgiana, where she sat sketching. A few minutes ago his eyes had followed another lady's progress on the same path, and though more beautiful, Lady Felicity did not have Elizabeth's charm.

"Your reluctance to admit how good she is for you makes me think that perhaps you had a tendresse for some other woman." Richard came back and stood watching the scene in front of them.

"I have never and will never hesitate to admit the good qualities of anyone," Darcy said haughtily, "nor have I any reluctance to admit to them in Elizabeth's case."

"Then what is it?" Richard asked looking at him in bewilderment, "I have seen the way you watch her, the way you tense up the moment she walks into a room, the way you talk to her. You are different with her around, man. It is as though you have no power over your interactions with her and yet you control your impulse to be with her with an iron hand. Whatever for?"

Darcy clenched and unclenched his hand. Richard had put a finger on his nerve. He could not deny the truth of his words, but nor could he explain the reason for his hesitation.

"I am not the only one who is reluctant Richard," he said at last.

"So she has…err…denied you?" Richard looked and sounded a bit surprised. His words certainly could be interpreted in more than one way and Darcy deeply regretted not having the power to stop his ears from turning bright red.

"She says she would have _all _of me," he said in a tight voice, "or _nothing."_

"And are you giving her…err…this_ 'all'_ she wants?" Richard placed a hand on his shoulder and turned him towards himself.

"I am trying," Darcy became irritated, _'why could Richard not stop his ridiculous and pointless questioning?' _He wondered irritably.

"I do not see why you have to **try, **man," Richard said in confusion, "she is the kind of woman for whom such feelings should flow naturally."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Darcy eyed his cousin suspiciously.

"Look," Richard turned towards the window and pointed where Elizabeth bent down to see how the sketch was coming along and then suddenly she snatched it and ran away with it as Georgiana followed and Anne and Lady Felicity giggled. "Tell me she has not brought life to your precious Pemberley. I'm going down there now, for you are no fun."

Richard quickly made his way out of the library while Darcy watched as a breathless Georgiana came back triumphant with her sketch followed by a sulking Elizabeth. The smile on his face got wiped off just as it appeared when Barrington made his way to Elizabeth and said something that made her smile instantly.

* * *

**Advocate No. 2: Miss Anne de Bourgh**

Darcy expertly turned the phaeton towards the path on the south and looked sideways at his companion.

"Is that where you wanted to go?" He asked Anne as she gave him a half smile and nodded. "Is something bothering you?" He carefully parked the vehicle under a tree and turned towards his quiet cousin.

"I feel restless," she said looking towards a far off cliff, "and anxious, as if something will happen and the wedding would get canceled once again."

"Anne," Darcy dropped the reins and placed a hand on hers, "has something happened to make you feel this way? Is it Aunt Catherine?"

Darcy was not one to show much emotion, but he cared deeply for Anne. He had always thought of her as a second sister and a friend and that was why he felt responsible for her as well. A year ago, Anne and Richard's wedding had to be cancelled because Lady Catherine met an unfortunate accident and broke her ankle. Anne had been prostate with grief over the cancelled wedding and worry over her mother's injury and now that the wedding was hardly a month away, Anne had become anxious again.

"No," she smiled, "Mama is all right." Darcy raised an eyebrow and she sighed and turned away again. "It is Richard."

"Richard?" Darcy felt some surprise at this. Richard though somewhat careless in general, was truly in love with Anne. He could not understand the reason for Anne's unease.

"I…you would think me silly," she looked sheepishly up at him. Darcy patted her hand consolingly and she took a deep breath before continuing, "it sometimes feels as though he has not forgotten her still."

Darcy winced at the sight of marked insecurity in Anne's countenance. Richard had been deeply in love with Darcy's cousin Ilythia Collier many years ago. However he gave her up when she rejected his proposal in favour of a gentleman of high standing from Scotland. Richard had been heartbroken for a long time before he realized his feelings for Anne and got accepted as well. They had been very happy in each other's love, Darcy did not understand the reason for this sudden lack of confidence on Anne's part.

"He is marrying you in less than a month," Darcy said incredulously, "why would you think him inconstant all of a sudden."

"Twice in the past week," she began tentatively, "have I heard him bring her up needlessly."

"That is ridiculous Anne," Darcy looked at her pensive face with an exasperated smile as he put the horse into motion again, "and here I thought that you had at least found some secret correspondence between them," Anne paled and Darcy added quickly, "which, I assure you, is absolutely impossible."

"And he is maintaining a certain distance from me as well," she said unconvinced, "ever since he came back."

"That is because I threatened to throttle him if I saw him with you alone," Darcy smirked at her as he turned the phaeton back towards the house.

"Fitzwilliam Darcy," Anne cried, "you evil man."

"Glad to be of service," Darcy remained unperturbed.

"It is Mama's fault, you know," she said looking down at her hands, "she keeps telling me that Richard was in love with a 'hussy' first."

"Everyone who is not immediately related to her seems like a 'hussy' to Aunt Catherine," Darcy chuckled. "She still calls my Aunt Isabel a hussy."

"I wonder what her reaction to Elizabeth would be," Anne's eyes crinkled in amusement.

"I think it is Elizabeth's reaction to her that should be worrying us more," Darcy said in an amused tone and Anne threw back her head and laughed.

"I am not looking forward to mama's arrival, at all," Anne said firmly, "but I cannot wait to see her interact with your fiery wife, William."

"You know," He turned towards her as the clouds gathered overhead, "the moment they come face to face shall be compensation enough for all the trouble I went through." Anne chuckled and Darcy joined in.

It was true that as the mother of the bride, Lady Catherine was to be borne with for a few weeks, but no one was actually looking forward to her arrival. Though Darcy did anticipate, with an evil glee, the first meeting between Elizabeth and his aunt, still unsure who would come out the victor once the daggers were drawn.

"But Elizabeth is no trouble," Anne said fondly, "she is, in fact, the antidote to all troubles." Darcy did not reply and for a few moments, silence fell in the phaeton as the sky darkened above them and Pemberley's silhouette came into sight. "Do you still not love her?" Anne asked suddenly and Darcy jumped.

"Has Richard put you up to this?" Darcy looked suspiciously at her before facing forward again.

"Oh no," she denied vehemently, "but I do not understand it, were you attached to someone before you married her?"

"This conversation is familiar to the one I had with Richard yesterday," Darcy said warily, "I told you Anne, not to talk to me about it."

"Just answer the question, William," Anne's highhanded tone was testament enough of her being Lady Catherine's daughter.

"No," the beautiful face of Lady Felicity flashed in front of his eyes for a moment, but his answer was firm.

"You hesitated for a moment," Anne said accusingly.

"I did not hesitate," he bit back.

"Yes, you did," she remained firm, "but I believe you and yet I do not understand Elizabeth either. Why is she not in love with you yet?" He could see that Anne was only teasing him, but her words stung.

Elizabeth had herself told him, on their wedding night, that she was glad that she married him instead of George and Darcy did believe her sincerity in that instant. After the initial few squabbles, Darcy had tried to be agreeable to her, in fact he had been downright kind. He had taken care that her every need was fulfilled, assigning the most efficient of his staff to be in service to her. And yet, Anne was right, Elizabeth still was not in love with him.

"You might harbour several misunderstandings against her," Anne looked at him with disapproval, "all of them, wrong. But Elizabeth is not one to persist in her negative opinion of anybody needlessly. I am not saying that you are pessimist, but she is so optimistic that I am amazed that she has not produced one excuse or another to grant your earlier highhanded behaviour null and void."

"Oh, so I am the one to be blamed for all our misunderstandings," Darcy said in amusement as the first drop of rain fell on his straight nose, "while she stands high above on the sky, far from any reproach that us mortals might unjustly label her with."

"Dear William," Anne smiled a knowing smile, amidst the drizzle that was quickly changing into heavy rain, "if you cannot see her true self, her true emotions, her very real hurt behind the smile she sports, then probably it is a good thing that she is not the kind of woman who gives her heart away on mere good looks."

"Yes," he cursed inside at not wearing a hat as the rain was making his vision blur, "I do not see her true self, while she can see mine; I am unaware of her true emotions but she has discovered mine and there is very real hurt behind her smiles but behind mine there is nothing but selfishness. Is that what you are trying to say?

"Oh no William," she placed her hand on his soaked arm as the horse galloped speedily towards Pemberley, "if she has not fallen in love with you yet, it can only mean that she has not been able to discern your qualities either. I only wanted to say that if she has not made the plunge yet then there must be something that is holding her back. And if you want her to be the loving wife that you deserve and must want as well, then you should give it to her."

Darcy halted the phaeton as near as possible to the entrance and jumped off to help Anne down. A young stable boy quickly took the reins from him as Gresham held the door open. Darcy led Anne inside the house, her words still ringing in his ears. She was right, Elizabeth did want something from him, except that it was not just something, it was everything, it was _all._ They stood dripping near the stairs as Darcy again felt the sway Elizabeth had already started to have over his family. Strangely though he did not begrudge her that for he did not doubt the sense of judgment in either Richard or Anne, nor did he doubt that Elizabeth was deserving of all the praise they credited her with.

"Oh Anne," he turned sharply towards the stairs and saw Elizabeth quickly coming down them, "you poor thing." She passed him in a whiff of heady fragrance and quickly grabbed Anne by the shoulders. "Mr. Darcy you should have known better than to take her out when it was about to rain," she quickly turned towards him in a huff as her eyes flashed at him in disapproval. Darcy felt as though he was fifteen and was thoroughly reprimanded for breaking a precious artifact.

"How was I to know that it was going to rain?" He tried to defend himself as she glared at him.

"Well, you should have," she said in the same tone and Darcy could see Anne's shoulders shaking but he could not be certain if it was by suppressed laughter or cold. "She is about to get married in less than a month," Elizabeth chided him, "she can catch a chill." She quickly led Anne upstairs as a riled Darcy followed.

"It was Anne who took me out for a drive around the park." he said sullenly, "and I can also catch a chill."

"A strong man like you?" Elizabeth turned to look at him in mock surprise as she halted at the head of the stairs, "I do not think so," she bit her lower lip to hide a smile.

With that she guided Anne towards the corridor and disappeared into her room and a thoroughly ignored Darcy went further up and into his room and kicked the door shut behind him. _'No wonder they are all eating out of her hands,' _he thought in irritation, feeling jilted. Elizabeth always took great care of everyone around her just like she had taken care of Miss Bennet at Netherfield. He still remembered how much he had enjoyed her company in those few days before…he shook his head to ward off the unpleasant images vying for a control of his mind.

Luckily his valet entered and helped him to take a bath before going down for tea. As he entered the parlour he saw Elizabeth, Georgiana and Lady Felicity ensconced in the window seat while Barrington and Richard played at a game of cards. They invited him to join them but Darcy declined and picked up the book he had been trying to finish for a few days. But as it turned out, he failed at his task yet again, for Georgiana and Elizabeth were attacking a very amused Lady Felicity with loud and enthusiastic questions about the latest couture and it was very hard to concentrate amidst so much noise.

He also felt a bit left out from the circle of Elizabeth's warmth. Ever since the Barringtons had arrived, she rarely took breakfast with him on the balcony and always took care to wipe the jam off. All her days were spent with entertaining the guests and at night she was usually too exhausted to say anything other than a quick good night to him before hastily entering her room. He looked at her sideways and found her listening to Lady Felicity in concentration. He turned back towards his book; she looked so adorable sometimes.

"Wuf," a small bark made him look down and he picked up Romeo and placed it in his lap. _'More adorable than Romeo even,' _he smiled again.

* * *

**Advocate No.3: Miss Georgiana Darcy**

Hermes galloped ahead, a bit frustrated with his master for not allowing him to run like the wind. Darcy had come out on a ride with Georgiana after many days and they had talked about everything and nothing. And yet they did not talk about George, even though he knew that Georgiana must want to, but Darcy did not know what to say to her about him without breaking her heart.

"I received a letter from George yesterday," Georgiana suddenly blurted out and Darcy turned sharply towards her as they slowed down their horses, "from Krenmoral."

"Krenmoral?" Darcy felt surprised.

Ever since George had inherited Krenmoral, he had never visited the property willingly. The estate was left almost solely under the supervision of one Mr. Haddock, who was appointed there as the caretaker by the Earl of Matlock. Darcy wondered why the Earl had not informed him for he was sure to know about this incidence.

Darcy looked sideways at Georgiana with a great unease spreading through him. She seemed disturbed as she bit her lip in agitation. He wanted to ask her about the letter, but his pride stopped him and so he remained quiet as the horses picked up speed again.

"Yes," Georgiana said after some hesitation, "he did not exactly make his intentions plain, but it felt as though he wants to come to Pemberley."

"Impossible," Darcy said forcefully for indeed, both the fulfillment of George's ridiculous wish and his attitude in hoping for such a thing were impossible. _'Does his obtuseness knows no end?' _He wondered in irritation.

"Of course," Georgiana pulled the reins of her horse bringing it to an abrupt halt as they reached wider grounds but made no move to dismount, "his letter angered me quite a bit."

"I am sorry, Georgiana," Darcy imitated her actions, "but stopping him from anything that he wants to do is not in my power. It has never been."

"There is no need to blame yourself William," Georgiana stretched a hand out to him, "you are not responsible for any of this."

Darcy swiftly slipped off his horse and helped her to the ground as well, before tying the horses to a nearby fence. Though Darcy held the same belief, sometimes he did wonder what might have happened if he had not suggested that George and Elizabeth marry?

"He…he," Georgiana began again as they began to walk towards the summit of a small mount ahead, "he also tried to prove his innocence."

Darcy turned sharply towards her. That was ludicrous

"And what excuse did he use to absolve himself from all blame?" He asked sardonically, "was it temporary insanity or a convenient amnesia?"

"Nothing so dramatic," Georgiana gave him a half smile, "he said that it was all Baron Farnsworth's doing."

"And George was a deaf, dumb, mute and crippled being who had no power to stop the great Baron," he continued in the same vein. Darcy also blamed Farnsworth for some part of George's behaviour, but he wholly agreed to what Elizabeth had said to him a few days ago, _'even the Baron could not have forced him to do anything against his will. Do not forget that he sent the invitations and procured the license all by himself'._

"I do not believe him," Georgiana said firmly and Darcy looked thoughtfully at her, "perhaps I might have if Elizabeth had not told me the truth, but I do not now."

"What has she told you?" He asked quickly as his heart thudded uncomfortably. Georgiana was still very young and he would not like anyone to regale her with stories of illicit encounters ending in marriages of compromise.

"What you should have," she looked up at him and stopped walking, "she told me how all of it started and how it ended."

"How could she tell you any of it," Darcy felt deep anger at the thoughtlessness of his wife, "you are too young…"

"I will be seventeen in a few months, William," She quickly cut him, "I cannot believe that at this point, instead of trying to prepare me for the world that I am about to step into, you are still trying to protect my feelings."

"Gina, there is a time and place for everything," he said haughtily, "I was going to tell you everything myself, only not this soon. Who knew how it would have affected you?"

"Elizabeth knew," Georgiana looked accusingly at him, "and she did the right thing by enlightening me. How do you think it might have affected me? Do you think I might have fainted dead away or gone into a shock that spanned the rest of my life?"

"If told in an inappropriate manner, yes." He remained unperturbed by her words. His main reason for not telling Georgiana anything was that he did not want to poison her pure heart against a brother that she truly loved.

"And how would Elizabeth know how to tell something in an appropriate manner?" Georgiana said sardonically. "I defy even you, with all your notions of propriety and decorum, to elucidate upon this sorry tale in words as relevant and yet so far removed from anything even remotely indecent. Elizabeth relayed it to me without hurting any of my _young _sensibilities, which is a feat in itself, given the nature of the incident."

Darcy's eyes expanded both at Georgiana's words and the fact that Elizabeth had, in actual fact, told her _everything._Elizabeth had successfully won over another one of his family members by only being forthcoming, but had she been forthright as well?

"What _has_ she told you?" Darcy asked in an eerily quiet voice. Georgiana's face clouded over for a moment before she took a deep breath and calmed herself down.

"She began by asking me what I felt about her behaviour towards George," Georgiana began hesitantly.

_'A clever way of going about it,' _He thought in appreciation. Of course her behaviour towards George in the days leading up to the marriage was anything but affectionate, which more than proved that at least on her side, something was amiss. And it also proved how unperceptive_ he _had been.

"And even though I am not too observant," she said thoughtfully, "it was odd, to be sure."

"What did she say about the…err…incident," Darcy asked somewhat hesitantly.

"She did not elaborate too much." Georgiana said with a shrug of her shoulders, "she only said that when found, she and George were made to get engaged against her will." Georgiana stopped for a moment and then began again, "William, how could George be so callous?" She asked in frustration, "he claimed to love Elizabeth and yet he did not think of her while compromising her and he claimed to love me and yet he did not think of me when he abandoned the wedding. If he cannot be loyal to the women he allegedly loves, who can he be sincere to? And I fail to understand his reason for embroiling _you_ in all of this, you who has never been anything but kind and gracious towards George."

"He blames me for being too overbearing towards him all our lives," Darcy said dejectedly as Georgiana took his hand and they turned around to go back to their horses, "he holds me culpable for all the troubles in his life."

"When in fact, he is the one responsible for all of yours," Georgiana said with feeling.

"Are you angry at me for not telling you?" He asked as he kissed her hand.

"No," she said with a half smile, "I understand that you are a reserved person and your only notion in not telling me was to protect my feelings." Darcy returned her half smile with a forlorn one of his own, "and also because you are too honourable to try and turn a sister against her brother, even if the said brother does not deserve your kindness."

Darcy blushed slightly at such praise from Georgiana and she chuckled softly.

"I believe I have told you this before, William," she said with a real smile this time, "you look ridiculous when you blush." He laughed then and the air cleared.

They got upon the horses and rode back in companionable silence, straight up to the stables. As they made their way from the back of the house, they spotted Elizabeth in the rose garden as she picked up the white roses, oblivious to their approach. Unconsciously, their step halted.

"He has done all of us a wrong," Georgiana said sadly as she looked at the tall woman who suddenly looked up and stared absently at the horizon. "I shall not reply to George's letter William, not when I know that his actions have hurt the people I love the most," she looked up at Darcy and propelled him towards a far off bench.

He remained quiet but his mind was on Elizabeth. At that moment she seemed like a blessing to him for Georgiana was right, he would never have known the right words to elaborate on the events of how George came to be engaged to her. His wife on the other hand, knew exactly what to say. Just like a proper wife, she had taken the burden of revealing a most unpleasant circumstance from his shoulders, and though he still thought that it would have been wise to wait some more, he could not help but feel gratitude for it. He also felt pleased at being proven wrong once again; Elizabeth had not lied, nor had she tried to gain sympathies from his sister, she was everything that she should have been, everything that he wanted his wife to be.

"Do you still love Lady Felicity?" Georgiana suddenly asked him and he groaned.

"Why does everyone keep asking me if I love someone?" He asked in annoyance, "are all of you in league to torture me with absurd questions?"

"No, indeed," Georgiana clarified with a smile, "it is only that before you got married, it seemed as though…err…you…" She left the sentence unfinished and looked expectantly at him.

"It was nothing but George's fanciful conjectures," Darcy denied feeling anything about Lady Felicity, "I did esteem her, still do, but I have never loved her, Gina."

"I am not surprised," she smiled fully, "for who can love anyone else when Elizabeth is around."

"Does she pay you, Anne and Richard to sing her praises to me?" Darcy gave her head a playful pat and smiled.

"If she found out that we have been doing it, she is sure to pay us not to," Georgiana returned in the same vein and then continued when Darcy raised an eyebrow at her. "Have you not noticed that every time someone compliments her, she changes the topic quickly or jokes about it to make it sound unimportant."

"I do not know," he said thoughtfully, "perhaps it is because I have never paid her any compliments."

"William," Georgiana cried in indignation, "you should be doing it all the time, women like being complimented even if it makes them blush. Have you not seen how Lord Barrington has something flattering to say about even the ground that she walks upon."

"He does?" Darcy frowned. _'Damn Barrington,' _he thought irritably, _'what does he mean by praising __**my wife?"**_

"Oh it makes me laugh at times how he goes on and on about Elizabeth's various virtues," she said with amusement, "even in her absence. It is as though his only purpose in coming here is to find out how exceptional she is in every respect."

Darcy was truly fond of the young Earl, but his habit of always monopolizing on Elizabeth's time had riled him a bit lately. He knew that Elizabeth was only trying to be a good hostess when she paid him attention but seeing them together at every turn did bother him, though he would never admit it to himself.

"I have to go," Darcy quickly got up, "my steward must be waiting for me in my study."

Georgiana watched him leave with an evil grin on her face. Her favourite novelist, Mrs. Broadhurst, was absolutely right about how jealousy works miracles on a man's heart. She looked over to the flower garden, where another unsuspecting heart needed some help from an avid admirer of Mrs. Broadhurst's works.

* * *

Elizabeth inhaled the smell of various flowers around her deeply as she picked out a few more white roses for the arrangement in the morning parlour. She loved roses of all kinds, but these days her favourite were the red ones covering the pergola and the blooming large white ones that she was picking just then.

"There you are," came the soft voice of Lord Barrington from behind her. She turned around to find him coming towards her from the entrance of the flower garden and smiled at him in welcome, "I have been looking all over for you."

"I was just about to go back inside," she said pleasantly getting up from her awkward hunched position, "my work here is done."

"I am glad to hear it," he said extending her a hand, which she took and stood up without losing her balance, "for it has been a rather dull morning."

"Is there no one to keep you company today?" Elizabeth looked questioningly at him, "Mr. Darcy must have come back from his ride by now."

"Oh Darcy bores me to death,' he said sullenly and Elizabeth rolled her eyes, "It is your company that I want."

"Tell me Lord Barrington," she took her hand out of his as they moved to walk out of the garden, "why did you agree to come to Pemberley when you knew that there shan't be anyone other than Mr. Darcy to keep you company and when his is the company you do not want?"

"Oh do not take me wrong, Mrs. Darcy," He immediately grabbed her hand under the dirty glove, an action he seemed quite fond of. "Darcy is like an older brother to me. His guidance after my father's death has been an immense help in making me come to terms with the loss and the responsibilities accompanied by it. And he is also one of the very few men who never treat me like a child."

Elizabeth looked carefully at him. He seemed to truly esteem Mr. Darcy and yet she had not seen him spend any time whatsoever with him. Lord Barrington was always following her around, it seemed as though he was a twin of Romeo. But she did not mind his company at all for after the initial excessive complimenting, he had quickly mellowed down and had proven himself to be an intelligent and interesting person.

"As a loving wife," his eyes twinkled at her but she could see a deep sadness in their depths as well, "you might not be able to see it, but Darcy is rather a dull fellow unless he wants to charm, and then there is no stopping him."

Elizabeth laughed heartily at such a picture of Mr. Darcy and blushed at the term _'loving wife' _for herself. She tried to imagine what being a loving wife entailed and a memory of her wedding night flickered in her mind as she covered a sleeping Mr. Darcy with her red shawl. She blushed again as something fluttered inside her.

"At London," Lord Barrington continued as they approached the house, "Darcy would never bet at White's, though many a times he has been bet upon."

"Has he now?" Elizabeth asked with surprise, "what about?"

"Mostly about which lady, or her mother, shall catch his attention during the season," he said with a laugh in his voice, "your husband was a very popular gentleman among the ladies of the ton, before he married you."

"Really?" Elizabeth said thoughtfully, "I had no idea."

"Did you not?" Lord Barrington said in some surprise and then placed his hands on her shoulders from behind and turned her towards Mr. Darcy's study. "Look at him, Mrs. Darcy," he pointed at the open door of the room from where the master of Pemberley could be seen as he stood tall near a bookshelf with a paper in his hand that he scrutinized with care. "Do you really think that a man as handsome, rich and influential would not be in demand by the ladies?"

Elizabeth blinked at her husband. He was handsome to be sure, too handsome it would appear with grey, secretive eyes that called out to be unraveled under raven hair that looked soft, but Elizabeth had yet to discover the truth of her surmise. She coloured slightly, just as he turned toward the door and started when he saw her. She smiled quickly, a soft pleasant smile that showed off her even white teeth to perfection. Mr. Darcy smiled back at her and then his eyes rose above her and the smile disappeared as he quickly came forward and slammed the door shut.

Elizabeth turned around and saw Lord Barrington grinning rather oafishly. She sighed and stepped towards the morning parlour, _'will I ever be able to understand Mr. Darcy's moods?' _She thought dully. Lady Felicity was sitting comfortably in the parlour, reading something. They greeted each other and Elizabeth began to arrange the flowers in a crystal vase as she sat on a settee.

"So you see, Mrs. Darcy," Lord Barrington's voice jerked her out of the thoughts of Mr. Darcy, "your husband is an incurable recluse. If the sight of you with all these flowers could not entice him out of his study, then I wonder what could."

"Perry," Lady Felicity chided from her perch by the window, "forgive my brother Mrs. Darcy," she looked apologetically towards Elizabeth, "he is too fond of teasing."

"As am I," Elizabeth smiled back at her and then turned towards the young man standing in front of her, his bright brown eyes always on her face. "You still have not answered my question, Lord Barrington. Why did you agree to come here before our marriage if my recluse husband bores you so much," she looked critically at her handiwork, "and when there was no prospect of having my _delightful _company either?"

Elizabeth looked up from her arrangement and saw the brother and sister eyeing each other with a certain sadness in their eyes. She suddenly felt guilty once again. Of course they had agreed because Lady Felicity was in love with Mr. Darcy and Lord Barrington was being a supportive brother. Elizabeth sighed at the cruelty of fate.

Just then something soft rubbed against her feet and she looked down to find Romeo trying to hide under her skirts.

"No, Romeo," she tried to sound stern but a giggle escaped her throat, Romeo's hair tickled her calves. "Bad Romeo," she admonished him again.

Lord Barrington quickly came forward and sat down on his knees as he bent down to pick the mischievous puppy up. As Elizabeth looked down at them the door to the parlour opened and Mr. Darcy peeped in.

"I take my words back, Mrs. Darcy," Lord Barrington whispered from where he still sat at her feet holding Romeo in his hands, "Darcy is apparently quite enticed." Elizabeth chuckled softly as he got up and moved towards the window.

"Have you seen Richard?" Mr. Darcy looked directly at her as he asked from the door, "I cannot seem to find him."

"As good an excuse as any," Lord Barrington persisted in teasing her while petting Romeo, "to come take a look at you."

"Oh stop it," she chided between giggles and then turned towards Mr. Darcy. "He went to Lambton," she told him, "but would be back before lunch."

He nodded and then left without saying anything else. _'Enticed indeed,' _Elizabeth thought sardonically, feeling disappointed. She looked towards Lady Felicity who seemed completely engrossed by her book and then moved to stand by Lord Barrington.

"How beautiful the morning is," he said with his eyes on the vast grounds outside.

"Hm," Elizabeth said absently.

Ever since the Barringtons had come, she had hardly spent anytime with Mr. Darcy. Their morning routine had been disturbed as well, for Lord Barrington was fond of staying up until late and that had disturbed Elizabeth's custom of getting up early. She enjoyed the company of the young lord and of Lady Felicity as well, but she missed Mr. Darcy's company. They had started to become comfortable with each other, had begun opening up about certain things as well but now it seemed as if they were drifting apart once again.

"Do you not have the impulse to run around freely on such a morning as this?" He asked without expecting an answer.

"Indeed I do," she smiled, "and I often act on such an impulse as well."

"I envy you," he turned towards her and said earnestly, "you have such spirit, such an aura of liveliness about you."

"As do you," Elizabeth returned equally, "I have seldom seen a man so enthusiastic about life and its small pleasures."

"It is because I am afraid," the light in his eyes dimmed down as he looked outside the window once again, "I am afraid that if I did not act on my impulses now, I shall never have the chance to do so again."

"A rather irrational fear," she shrugged her delicate shoulders as she gazed at his profile, "but if it propels you to live life to the fullest, so be it."

"Oh this fear is not irrational," he said vaguely and then faced her, "but there is so much that I want to do, so much that I want to achieve." He bent towards her and said with a sudden fervour, "I want to travel to far off places, to have adventures and to fall in love."

"And so you shall," Elizabeth shook her head as she smiled at his tone, "there is no hurry. You have your whole life ahead of you."

He smiled sadly at her and then turned around to gaze outside once again. Elizabeth felt a momentary confusion at his despondent manner and sad eyes and turned towards Lady Felicity, only to find her silently exiting the room.

* * *

"Are you feeling sleepy?" Mr. Darcy asked as they reached the doors to their rooms. The first thing that he had said to her all day.

"Yes," she faked a yawn and then smiled sleepily at him, "it has been a long day."

"Good night," he said and entered his room.

Elizabeth went into hers and the maid quickly prepared her for the night and silently exited. As soon as Elsie left, Elizabeth quickly got off the bed, put her feet into the soft slippers, grabbed the silk robe that the maid had laid out for her and slipped into it, tying the knot firmly around her waist.

She closed the door behind herself with great care and moved away towards the library stealthily. It might have seemed to Mr. Darcy that she had let go of the notion of finding Fitzwilliam's journal but Elizabeth had secretly been investigating the possible places for it, in order to know the truth about Desiree.

"Here Romeo," she spied the small puppy sniffing around the library and called out to it. Romeo bounded into Elizabeth's arms and looked up at her with unmistakable joy in his large brown eyes that she loved so much.

Ever since Elizabeth had found out that sniffing things out was a beagle's specialty, she had been bringing Romeo to the library and shoving the oldest of books under its nose, in order to use its ability in finding the old journal. She knew that it might work or it might not for after all, Romeo was hardly two months old.

"Now no yelping," she said sternly as her eyes glittered at the patched puppy in her arms.

"Wuf," it answered and Elizabeth chuckled as she put it down on the floor.

"And no barking either," she told it and this time Romeo merely wagged its tail enthusiastically.

Dog and mistress ready for their first mission, crept up the stairs until they reached the landing where the stairs ended and the attic started. Elizabeth tried not to tread upon Romeo since it insisted on walking between her feet. Though the attic was cleaner than what was usual, it was not aired and everything had at least a week's dust lying upon it. Elizabeth held the lamp up for survey as she moved around the various objects there.

She was in a large storage space with huge cabinets on one end, and roughly put furniture in the other. There were a few paintings and portraits as well. She felt a bit deflated. Elizabeth had thought that this would be easy, she would go into the attic and the first thing that would leap at her eyes would be the journal, but that was not the case. She looked around with widened eyes and decided that it would take a long time to find it, _if _it was there.

Suddenly Romeo gave a small yelp from a little further off and Elizabeth turned sharply towards it. Romeo was wagging its tail as it breathed in small quick gasps. Elizabeth approached it and saw that it was pointing towards a stack of books. A sudden smile lit her face as she placed the lamp down and patted Romeo lovingly. _'My little spy is growing up,' _she thought with pride as Romeo looked expectantly at her. She skimmed through the books but they were only old tomes and nothing more. Elizabeth got up once again and started looking around.

After an hour of futile efforts and dust, she decided to quit searching for the day and come back again on the morrow. But just as she was about to move back something caught her eyes. It was an open door cupboard with rows of dresses and coats, covered up nicely. She held up the lamp as her hand softly moved across the hangers. These clothes must have belonged to previous generations of Darcys. Romeo, noticing her interest padded over to her and jumped at a coat, making something flutter to the ground.

Elizabeth bent down and picked it up. It was a very old paper, coming apart in some places. Her heart thudded as she opened it, it was in French. Elizabeth's eyes fell down to the bottom of the page and though she did not know any French, the name there was unmistakable. It was _Elizabeth F. Darcy (Desiree)._

She strangled the shriek of joy that threatened to spill out of her throat, carefully deposited the letter inside her robe, fastening the belt even tighter so that it would not fall off. She quickly moved out and down the attic with Romeo following closely and entered the library in search of a book that could help her translate the letter.

"Elizabeth," a tap on her shoulder and her name called out in what was unmistakably Mr. Darcy's voice made her halt her frantic search and turn around to find him standing behind her.

Elizabeth's heartbeat rose quickly as she looked up at his face. He was in his night suit and a robe with his usually meticulously combed hair in slight disarray as he looked down at her in confusion.

"Where have you been?" He asked folding his arms on his chest.

"Err…here," she stuttered. Mr. Darcy would probably not approve of her sly investigations.

"I have been here for almost three quarters of an hour, Elizabeth," he raised an eyebrow at her just as Romeo made an appearance and started his jumping and yelping routine that he always did at the sight of Mr. Darcy. _'Traitor,' _Elizabeth thought in annoyance. "And you slipped out of your room almost an hour ago," his second eyebrow joined the first one.

"How do you know?" She asked with widened eyes.

"I live in the room next to you," he said taking a step closer, "and fortunately am not deaf."

_'Fortunate for you,' _she thought as she rolled her eyes.

"I was only…," she tried to think of an excuse, Romeo yelped and suddenly she knew what to say, "walking around with Romeo."

"For an hour?"

"We did sit around a bit as well," she said sheepishly.

"You are hiding something from me," he said accusatorily as he stepped nearer.

"N-no," Elizabeth stuttered again as she tugged self-consciously at her gown. Mr. Darcy's eyes fell from her face to her attire as he gazed at her from head to toe. Elizabeth's skin tingled, even though he had not touched it.

"You know my dear Mrs. Darcy," he stepped closer and said in a husky tone of voice, "the problem with silk is," his face was very close to hers and Elizabeth felt some difficulty in breathing, "that when worn snugly, it highlights every contour of the body," she could not believe that he had placed his hand below her chest, "and everything that is hidden beneath as well."

Within a second he pulled at her belt making her gown split open and the letter flutter down. Elizabeth's gasp echoed in the library, but the letter being discovered was the furthest from her mind. Her quick breaths were the result of the warmth that Mr. Darcy's hand had left between her ribs, where her heart was pounding in every nerve.

"Aha," Mr. Darcy was oblivious to her quickened pulse or her open robe as he bent down and picked the frail parchment up.

"Give it back," Elizabeth said in a shaky voice, trying slowly to recover from the shock of his touch as she tied the belt with clumsy fingers, "you have no right to…"

"Shh," he placed a finger on his lips and then spread the paper on the table nearby, "it is from Desiree to Fitzwilliam," he said in astonishment. "Where did you find it?" Mr. Darcy looked at her.

"In the attic," she said sullenly, "Romeo helped me." She said petulantly, not wanting to bear the brunt of his anger alone.

"Trying to implicate an innocent, Mrs. Darcy?" He said mischievously. Elizabeth looked at him in surprise and smiled, relieved that he was not angry at her. "We probably should not read it," he said doubtfully to her and then his eyes got a devilish glow, "but I shall make a concession if _you_ really want to."

"Now who is trying to implicate an innocent?" She narrowed her eyes at him and he smiled widely at her.

"Come along then," he grabbed her hand and led her towards the rotunda, "do you know French, mine is not that good."

"Mine is limited to mon ami and merci," she giggled and felt warm all over as he held her hand.

She sat on the sofa and Mr. Darcy sat close beside her. Elizabeth gulped as their thighs brushed against each other. He spread the paper on the table and examined it carefully.

"Umm," he began by narrowing his eyebrows in concentration, "she starts by saying _my love, Fitzwilliam."_

"Are you sure," Elizabeth slipped the paper towards herself as she bent over it, "for she might be saying Fitzwilliam, my love?" She batted her lashes at him playfully as he scowled at her and moved the paper back.

"Do not disturb me while I am hard at work," he said importantly.

"Why would she say that in a letter," Elizabeth teased on, "when she could have said that to him face to face?"

"Elizabeth," he said in exasperation coupled with a yelp from an overexcited Romeo. Elizabeth pretended to have sobered up, when she was only trying to throttle her chuckle. Mr. Darcy began again, "She goes on to say that _she does not want to be away from him anymore."_

"Where was she when she wrote this letter?" Elizabeth bent towards him to take a look at the letter and their shoulders brushed, she quickly jerked away.

"I can only guess that she was in France," Mr. Darcy said as he looked up at her with eyes that seemed to glue themselves to her face, "you see the last entry in Fitzwilliam's journal said that because of some reason, she left him and their son to go back to France."

"What?" Elizabeth jumped at that revelation, "why? Did she not love him? How did they have children, if she did not?"

"Err," Mr. Darcy stuttered as his face grew red, "let us save _such _questions for a latter time, shall we?" Elizabeth blushed and nodded.

"I do not think that in the two years of their marriage, it was ever established that she loved him," he said squinting at the letter, "or at least that is what I remember from the journal." He kept his eyes on the letter, "and then she goes on to say that _France does not feel like home anymore, that she would only be at peace once she is with him again."_

"If she felt so strongly about him," Elizabeth asked in confusion, "then why did she never tell him?"

"This letter seems to be in response to a letter that Fitzwilliam must have written to her," Mr. Darcy continued on, "she tells him that _she is ready to come back whenever he wants her to_ and also asserts that _life is not life if he is not in it."_

"I do not understand," Elizabeth said in bewilderment, "why did she leave him and did she come back?"

"Of course she did," Darcy folded the letter carefully and turned towards her, "the family history suggests that Fitzwilliam traveled to France three years after his marriage to bring back his wife who was there for a holiday. Which, of course, is not true and I think that he went to bring her back after receiving her letter."

"Oh where is that journal, Mr. Darcy?" Elizabeth turned towards him in excitement, "why can you not tell me what was in it?"

"Because you like being teased," he said smugly sitting back in the sofa.

"I like being teased, not tortured," she said sullenly.

"Honestly, Elizabeth," he captured her hand in his, "I do not remember. I read it more than a decade ago. Most of the details in my mind are hazy at best."

She nodded and sat back in the sofa. For a few minutes they just sat there with their fingers entwined. Elizabeth closed her eyes to savour the moment, it felt as though they were talking to each other after an eternity. Sitting with him in the round room connected to the library in the middle of the night felt good, felt right.

"How long has it been since the last time that we sat together and had a decent conversation?" He voiced her thoughts in his deep masculine voice and she felt a fluttering sensation in the pit of her stomach. _'Did he miss me?' _She wondered.

"Both of us became busy after the guests came, I suppose," she said opening her eyes.

"You more than me," he accused and she looked sideways at him, "I hardly ever see you anymore."

"You are the one who invited them," she said looking into his deep, steely eyes as their heads rested against the sofa back, their faces turned towards each other.

"And you are the one who insisted they come," he blamed, "even when the oppourtunity of retracting the invitation arose."

"That would have been the height of rudeness," she narrowed her eyes at him and huffed, "besides, I hardly knew where I stepped on the day of our wedding, let alone who I insisted to come to Pemberley."

"But you were in complete command of you tongue," his eyes glinted in the candle lit room while he kept on rubbing the back of her hand with his thumb.

"Forbidden topic Mr. Darcy," she said lazily closing her eyes again, "do not provoke me to tease you past midnight."

"What do you do all day?" He asked idly.

"Oh this and that," she said nonchalantly, "walk with Lord Barrington, talk with Anne, swing with Lady Felicity, gossip with Georgiana and joke with Colonel Fitzwilliam."

"There is no mention of me," he said unsmilingly, but she could detect the lightness of his tone. _'I might not do anything with you, but you are always at the back of my mind,' _she thought and then averted her eyes, fearful that he might read them.

"The hosts have to sacrifice their time for their guests, Mr. Darcy" she said firmly, her eyes now on his hand encasing hers, "I am sure that you would not want me to ignore our guests."

"I would not mind if you ignored Barrington a little," he teased and she looked up at him.

"I am heartily sorry, but that would not be possible," she chuckled as Romeo jumped on to her lap, "your friend is quite like his gift to us, he does not leave me alone for even a moment."

Mr. Darcy laughed then, a rumbling sound that came from deep within him. Elizabeth looked up at him, pleasantly surprised as she also giggled. It was perhaps the first time in an acquaintance of almost three months that she had heard him laugh so freely. His face transformed as he sported a boyish grin, it became soft and if possible, even more handsome.

"Barrington takes his flirtation rather too seriously, I am afraid," he said looking carefully at Elizabeth as he took Romeo from her and patted it softly.

"A little, perhaps," she said contemplatively, "but he is not all about flirtation, contrary to his usual first impression."

"What do you mean?" Mr. Darcy looked sharply from the sleepy puppy.

"He is…," she floundered for the right word, "he is not just a flirt, there is a lot more to him than that. Have you never noticed how passionate he is about life, it is as if he is in a hurry to live every moment and to live it to its utmost potential." Without realizing, Elizabeth had sat up a little and was talking more enthusiastically than she had all night. A frown had appeared on her husband's face. "Lord Barrington has this infectious energy, that lies underneath his playful manner. I am glad that you invited them, Mr. Darcy for I like both the Barringtons."

"Do you now?" he suddenly seemed distant and grave, "you have not said anything about Lady Felicity though."

"Oh she is a true lady," Elizabeth said with more fervour now as she folded her legs underneath her, "but without any false airs to make that fact conspicuous. She would never sit the way I am sitting," she pointed towards herself, "but nor would she look down upon someone for adopting such a pose. Do you know what I mean?"

"Perfectly," he nodded as though in complete agreement, "she is the quintessential woman, both in mind and manner. The amazing thing is that there is no difference between what she thinks and how she acts, it is the way she is, a true lady as you said." His eyes glowed in admiration and suddenly Elizabeth did not think Lady Felicity _'all that perfect' _anymore.

She looked carefully at him as she wondered if he still loved her? It was not proper for him to love another woman when he was married to _her._She should be the only recipient of any feeling he had, on these lines. This was wholly improper behaviour in the ever proper Mr. Darcy. Elizabeth's eyes narrowed as her heart dipped a little, _'what if he really still loves her?'_

"Are you…,"

"No, Elizabeth," he sat up and said quite vehemently, "I am not in love with her."

Elizabeth blinked. Not even in the boldest of her dreams had she ever thought of asking him such a direct question or to receive such a firm answer.

"I…err," she stared at him, "it is good to know that, but I was only going to ask if you were ready to go back to our chambers now."

"Oh," his face flushed and she pursed her lips. She did not want to laugh right now and make him feel the fool for after all, it must have taken him some struggle to utter such a sentence to her. "It is only that everyone else has been asking me if I am or was in love with someone before we got married and I am tired of it."

"I still remember your reaction when I first teased you about…err…her at Longbourn," she said tentatively, "I for one, would never have dared to go that way again."

"But you have the right to now," he said firmly, "and I hope you understand my displeasure from that day. It is disrespectful to link a lady's name to a gentleman's without there being an engagement between them. Look how it all turned out; I married you and she is still unengaged. If word of any association had gotten out, she would have been known as the woman jilted by Fitzwilliam Darcy and that might have marred her prospects."

Elizabeth's eyes glowed with admiration for him. _'How honourable he is,' _she though like a giddy school girl. Even though he was not attached to Lady Felicity anymore, he still worried for her future and her reputation.

"Y-you did s-say that I have a right," Elizabeth asked him and he looked somewhat warily at her, "did you _ever_ love her?"

"No," he answered quickly and without hesitation, which made it all the more believable to Elizabeth, "I did admire her though, and still do, but there has never been any deep feeling attached to it." Elizabeth tried really hard to stop the happy smile from curving her lips, but failed miserably. "So you do not need to be jealous of her on my account," his tone was so serious that if not for the glint in his eyes, Elizabeth would have thought he had said this in earnest.

"How presumptuous you are, Mr. Darcy," she narrowed her eyes, but the relief in her heart was distinctive as she took her hand out of his and folded her arms on her chest. "I have already said that there is no need for us to be jealous of anyone on each other's account, have I not?" His face clouded over for a moment, but then his mood lightened again and Elizabeth's hand found its way back into his hand as they rested their heads on the sofa back once again.

Desiree's half translated letter lay forgotten on the table in front of them as they talked through the night, sitting side by side. Elizabeth promised never to skip the breakfast on the balcony with him again and Mr. Darcy promised not to point out the jam or to fish out a letter from inside her gown again. The night wore on as the husband and wife drifted off to sleep.

That was how Mrs. Reynolds found them in the morning. Mrs. Darcy's head was on Mr. Darcy's shoulder and his head rested on hers, her legs folded under her and his stretched out in front of him, her soft pink palm was ensconed in his large hand. Mrs. Reynolds blushed and coughed a few times to wake them up, it would not do for anyone else to find them in the library in such an intimate manner. She did not want to but they had better go back to their rooms and continue, whatever it was that they had done in the night, there.

A very embarrassed Mr. and Mrs. Darcy woke up, blushed crimson and almost ran out of the library, one after the other. Mrs. Reynolds smiled as she heard Mrs. Darcy giggling all the way down the stairs and Mr. Darcy telling her to stop. She shook her head and closed the library door behind her; this was the most she had been entertained in years.

* * *

**A/N: **I would like to thank PS and Lennie for pointing out my mistakes in the previous chapter. I have edited them now. Also many thanks for all the wonderful reviews.

A reviewer, 'fanaticficreader' showed some confusion over the age of Lady Felicity and it got me thinking that maybe more of you are not sure about the ages of the characters and the timeline. So here's a quick look at it:

The Darcys

Fitzwilliam: 27 yrs

George: 25 yrs

Georgiana: 16 years

The Bennets

Jane: 20 yrs

Elizabeth: 19 yrs

The Bingleys

Mr. Bingley: 27 yrs

Miss Bingley: 24 yrs

The Barringtons

Lady Felicity: 24 yrs

Lord Barrington: 23 yrs

Anne: 25 yrs

Colonel Fitzwilliam: 29 yrs

The year is 1811-Mr. Bingley and George Darcy came to Hertfordshire in March-Mr. Darcy joined them there in April-Elizabeth got engaged to George Darcy and moved to London in May-Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy got married and moved to Pemberley in June-The Barringtons arrived at Pemberley in July-The current time in the story is July, 1811.

Darcy and George read Fitzwilliam's journal when they were 15 and 13 respectively.

Lady Anne Darcy died in the year 1800, when Darcy was 16, George 14 and Georgiana was 5 yrs old and Mr. Darcy senior died six years after that.

Darcy went to Italy with the Barringtons when he was 23 and Lady Felicity was 20 years old.

Fitzwilliam and Desiree's story is set in the 1730s (roughly).

* * *

**Next Chapter: Fitzwilliam's Journal and Elizabeth's Dream**


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